Gomer's Pyle

Whew!

2008-02-27T21:45:00.003-06:00

Glad that's over. The surgery went fine and I'm back home and in servitude. It's not bad though...spending the next week with my wife will be a welcome change. I was joking with a friend of hers that I was going to get a little bell that she could ring to summon me. Right in front of Jodi, her friend says "Oh when I was sick, I used the intercom mode on the cordless phone to buzz my family whenever I needed something".

Thanks a lot Tracey (and NOT because it made my life any easier)!

When will women listen?

2008-02-25T12:28:00.003-06:00

OK, so the "sprained ankle" turns out to be much more. Jodi sought the advice of an ortho Doc when she got home, and it turns out she has torn ALL the ligaments in the lower leg/upper ankle. She is now scheduled for surgery tomorrow (Tuesday) to repair the damage and align the bones with screws to heal. 6 weeks on crutches with no weight bearing, followed by intensive physical therapy for who knows how long. I can't escape the bite of coincidence...

"SHE" is a Physical Therapist who now needs therapy in the department she heads! "I" told her she was going to get hurt going skiing after a 20 year layoff from the sport (a prescience ability I have demonstrated in the past) and...Viola...she instantly proves me right! "I" have nothing but time to take care of her, and now that's ALL I will be doing for the next 6-12 weeks!

I really do hope the surgery goes well, and I really do feel bad for her, but I can't escape the irresistible urge to say "I told you so"!

Her nose was pepper sunlight

2008-02-19T19:42:00.013-06:00

This is getting so fricken ridiculous. I happened to drink a mediocre '93 Bordeaux tonight in it's entirety, and found myself again immersed in my (admittedly awesome) Hi-Fi system. One of the albums I pulled to play was Jane's Addiction "Nothing Shocking", an album from smack dab in the middle of "her" time in my life (coincidence? you decide). Songs play such a crucial role in relationships..don't you think?

The track "summertime roll" flooded my brain with memories. The whole album is great, but I can't tell you how many time we made love to this song. I'll give you some hints. I was 20...and a model physical specimen with the appetite of a porn star. I was enraptured by this album, infatuated with a beautiful woman infatuated with me, and finally in my first apartment away from home. "Daily" could be the understatement of the century.

I'm so fucking hard on myself. Why can't I just listen to music and appreciate the memories? Why do I have to immerse myself in them to the point that I compound clinical depression? Why do the memories seem to affect me more now than the experience did 19 years ago? It's to the point that I can think of nothing else for long...long periods of time? If only I had known then what strikes me dumb now. BTW, I had a 3 x 6 poster of the uncensored album cover over the headboard of my bed which, as you might think, generated A LOT of questions!

Anyway, here's a link so that you and yours can get on with the business of lurve. It's a simple little diddy, but trust me when I say that you'll imagine (and want) your hips moving to the same tempo changes!
Summertime Rolls by Jane's Addiction

I told her so!

2008-02-19T19:33:00.002-06:00

Before Jodi left for Seattle, I warned her that I hoped she would not get injured. Let me explain. Susan and her family traditionally go skiing in Canada during the kids spring break. Jodi was visiting on precisely this week, hence their plans to go skiing, which now included Jodi.

Hence the warning.

Ergo the injury Jodi suffered two days ago. A SEVERLY sprained ankle (Jodi, being a physical therapist, is uniquely qualified to classify the sprain as "severe".)

She is now on crutches...and my life is forfeit the forseeable future.

Dammit all!

Two things

2008-02-12T16:57:00.000-06:00

Jodi leaves for Seattle tomorrow for a week of visiting her best friend Susan. I'm not sure how I feel about her being gone for Valentine's Day, but I have already made arrangements for some roses to be delivered to Susans's house on Thursday. It's the least I can do for all my wife does for me. Love ya honey!

Jefe has apparently received his liver transplant, because he is again planning on coming down this weekend. If you'll remember not too long ago, the two of us consumed no less than 6 bottles of wine during an X Box marathon. I swore off wine shortly thereafter, but recently I feel myself getting older and more decrepid. So now it's time for another massive antioxidant infusion to counter the effects of the aging process. My free radical count is WAY too high.

I only have 4 bottles on hand...so that will have to do.

P'owned you beiotch

2008-02-12T16:47:00.001-06:00

I spent the other night getting my Xbox 360 connected to Xbox LIVE so that Jefe and I can play Halo 3 together whenever we want...him in MN and me here in WI. I gotta kinda marvel at the technology that allows two players to play and talk to each other just by signing into a common site. We have not played yet, but I'm sure it will be cool. On the other hand I can see myself in the kind of light Vince Vaughn was portrayed in the movie "The Breakup". A 30 something guy sitting with a headset microphone on in front of a big screen TV, trash-talking some 13 year old kid from God knows where, while I get my ass handed to me.

I AM just an overgrown kid. But I don't want to actually be SEEN as one!

When I think this...I think...I shouldn't think... this.

2008-02-08T14:36:00.000-06:00

There is no pain in death...it only hurts to die. My macabre fascination with my middle-age arrival, means I now think more than ever about my death. Friends my age are croaking. Friends my age have kids having KIDS. Shit! I've always maintained I will not live past the age of 55, so that gives me +/- 15 years to discover the meaning of MY life before it ends. That's not a lot of time when you consider the perpetual stumbling of the first 39 years.

Flor De "I've got a headache"

2008-02-08T14:18:00.000-06:00

I'm pretty much finished cleaning the house. Jodi has to work all weekend, so I cleaned it to take some pressure off of her. It was to be a surprise, but she surprised me by coming home at lunch and scaring the bejeezus out of me because I had the ipod cranked and did not hear her come in. You know...you look up and someone is standing there where there wasn't someone only a second ago? Freak out time. Now what to make for dinner? Tonight it has to be great.

The trifecta of a clean house, great dinner, and the 2003 Flor De Pingus SHOULD guarantee I'm gettin' jiggy wit' it tonight. But alas, as a married man, all I can do is my best to provoke it.

Cold luck

2008-02-06T15:06:00.000-06:00

While ice fishing this morning, I got a terrible tangle of line in my reel. So I unscrew the front drag nut to take the spool off, and it falls into the hole in the ice and sinks. A 6" hole in a 4' x 8' shanty, and this little part magically finds it on the first bounce. I could have sat there all day and threw the thing at it and wouldn't have hit it once. That's the kind of luck I am getting used to...the bad kind.

Deflating the Pyle

2008-02-04T21:27:00.000-06:00

A couple of hours ago I got the fastest response in my job search so far. Barely 3 days ago, I applied for a position as Director of Corporate Communications for a local company. Today I recieve an email stating that, though my qualifications are impressive, I am not being considered for the position. How do they know I would not be the best they ever had without at least talking to me? This one really deflated the ego a bit. Not only another rejection...but a goddamned fast one at that.

It's like those really, really, urgent bowel movements. The faster it comes on, the more definitive it is when it's over. Evidently after hearing from the Gomer, they could not wipe fast enough.

Mmmmm......Caucasians

2008-01-30T15:27:00.000-06:00

The white Russian is again my mixed drink of choice after an 18 year absence. I figure since I can't get the past (and her) out of my head, I might as well go one step further and revisit the drinks that made that period what it was. Damn! I forgot how good these things were!

White Russians at the Silver Dollar Saloon EVERY night...consume until broke. That was my college instruction manual.

What really sparked the mood was watching "The Big Lebowski" the other night. So I went out and got some Absolut Vanilla, Kahlua, and fresh cream; pretended I was Jeffery Lebowski minus the weed, and began a mixin'.

"Another Caucasian Gary" is my new battle cry.

Lil' Abner

2008-01-27T22:12:00.000-06:00

A few weeks ago, my wife's running partner mentioned that the local Humane Society had taken in a stray Mastiff. The woman and her family were in the process of deciding whether they were going to adopt the dog. I was intrigued by the story of the dog, and decided to stop by the shelter to meet him, thinking that we might be interested in adopting him if they did not. When I saw him I was deeply moved to take him home right then, but my wife, out of respect for her friend, wanted them to have first chance. I was not very happy for a day or two...but I understood. Anyway, it turns out they did adopt him.

Guess who we got to dog-sit for on Saturday? None other than Abner the Mastiff. What a great guy he was, and now I am even more upset that we could not have him. He is an absolute LOVER and CUDDLER. I'm glad he went to a great home, but we missed out on a super dog. BTW; I can't even describe how big this guy is. My frame of reference was seriously deficient when picturing "big" dogs before I met Abner. Macy, our 73# black lab, looked like a puppy next to him. Isn't he just adorable?

Guitar God

2008-01-27T21:10:00.000-06:00

Jefe and I drained some wine bottles Saturday while we got caught up on each others lives. The drinking always starts slow...just a glass or two to get us started as we do the "social thing" with wives and such...then the X box comes alive and the wine flows like a river. He had recently been given Guitar Hero II for the 360, so he brought it down for us to jam. Late, late into the night we had "john the fisherman" by Primus cranking over and over again as he played bass and I played guitar. Eventually, we were so drunk we were being booed off the stage on "Easy" mode, so we made the switch to Gears of War.

After our six bottle of wine...and at 1:45 AM...I said "uncle" and told Jefe I was spent. So ended another session of working out the meaning of life. Happy to report, further work on the problem is needed, so we are planning to get together again as soon as our livers have healed.

Two for one special

2008-01-26T10:19:00.001-06:00

I've got a line a job with the local Medical center. I'm checking into it Monday, but I'm not sure about working at the same place as my wife. One reason is that when I had my own business, I made it a point NOT to hire husbands and wives in case I ever had to fire or layoff one or both. I broke down one time and did it...then ended up having to lay both of them off. I felt terrible.

Funny that I have not asked HER how she would feel about me being there. I suppose I should explore that out of fairness.

Windy

2008-01-24T22:18:00.000-06:00

Jodi and I went to a banquet tonight thrown by her employer honoring years of service of various employees including her. One particular retiree was honored for 44 years of service, but here was the catch. The department head who introduced her and gave the "recognition speech", went on and on...and on...and on...and on. I seriously thought the elderly lady had a good chance of dying prior to being finally asked to come up to the podium and accept her award. The speech introducing her was delivered in a scatter-brained, seat of the pants fashion that ended up casting a shadow on her wonderful career because it was so fricking long. I was embarrassed for her to have to listen to such a painful retelling of her ENTIRE life story in such a numbnutz fashion.

People...if you are ever asked to perform such a function, please keep in mind a couple of things:

Not everyone in the audience gets inside jokes.
Too much detail is just that...too much.
Keep the physical comfort of your audience in mind.
10-15 "funny stories" in an introduction ends up being anything but.

Last but not least, if your honoree is above the age of 70, do not make them wait for 42 minutes to accept an award while you display your lack of organization and public speaking skills. Can I get an Amen brother!

Drivel (a kind of very cold dribble)

2008-01-24T00:47:00.000-06:00

I might have to move my computer if this weather does not improve. This machine is sitting in a 12' x 12' sun room that is 3 sides floor to ceiling windows. Outside these windows it is now close to -18, and inside...well...my feet are getting damnned cold. The room is in fact freezing, even though the thermostat is set to 68 degrees. I would hate to have Xcel Energy come out to do an analysis of this room. I bet most of my heating bill goes up the chimney right in this very spot.

On the ipod is "Freezing Process" by Quicksand. Would that be irony or coincidence?
I C A N N O T S T O P P L A Y I N G T H I S S O N G ! Get outta my head!

Today marks an attempt to start thinking, acting, and blogging more positively. I looked back on some of my archived posts and came to a revelation: when I'm not crying about being so screwed because of all the crap that has happened, I manage to post some very readable material. Maybe I can work my way back to being witty, intelligent, funny and controversial. Obviously, it starts sometime after this post.

Welcome to the New and Improved Pyle

2008-01-22T16:27:00.000-06:00

Don your personal protective gear and dive in.

You're HOW old?

2008-01-22T13:28:00.001-06:00

Yes, today is my birthday. You can say "Happy Birthday" if you want, but it will probably be anything but that. Number one...it's cold. I mean it's F#@$%*# COLD! The temp this morning was -14 when I got up, so that kind of puts a little damper on celebration activities. There will be no ice fishing today. No thank you! This Arctic blast has been going on for about a week now, and I'm sick of it.

Secondly, well...there's all that other stuff going on. The significance of the B-Day is that I have managed to ingest another year of it. Tomorrow, the cup will start to fill again with my 40th year of shit, which I will Jonestown-like consume next January 22nd, all the while proclaiming myself wiser and stronger for having done the previous 39 doses. Unlike the Rev. Jones though..I have no followers. Not a SINGLE B-day card in the mail! It's like Molly Ringwald in 16 Candles...except there is no one to "forget"...there is just "no one".

Contrary to popular opinion, there is a bit of good news around here. Jefe is making the pilgrimage to my house this weekend for some wine and X-box. Should be fun. I have not tied on a good drunk in about 3 days, so I'm due.

Oh God, I really don't want to do this

2008-01-18T00:48:00.000-06:00

I'm almost scared to post about new music I discover...with my only reader in love with Edith Piaf and the cast of a 70's comedy show labeled after distant primate relatives...I feel sadly misunderstood. I feel I missed the boat somehow by not being a nerd. Ironically, that might make me one. How odd.

But I must alert the world to a groundbreaking band that past me by. Apparently, this band was a huge success out East in the early 90's, but never caught on around here. I can vouch for that...because I have never heard them. They are called "quicksand" and they are simply great. They don't move me, there are NO rhapsody links here and no musical reviews for me to be basted later about. Just the fricken name this time around, just like the good old days. You know, when you told your buddy about a band and he said "I'll have to pick up the album".

Do the damn work yourselves...just like I had to. HA!

Can you all sense that I am on edge lately? I find myself walking around wishing someone would pick a fight with me.

Great News!

2008-01-18T00:41:00.000-06:00

The high paying job I was being considered for is NOT going to be created! Isn't that just so exciting. The company decided not to make personnel changes until next year! To top it off, it only took a three week vacation for someone to decide that, and another for them to let me know! I am now free to continue my downward slide, complete with dangerous laziness and growing marital destruction. What a relief. That was a close call.

Sometimes I just want to check out...for good.

Past, Present, no Future

2008-01-06T22:33:00.000-06:00

Still no word on the potential job I'm waiting to hear on..."future boss" must be a procrastinator, and therefore I shall fit right in. Maybe this week.

Not much is happening around here. My daze of nostalgia has waned some in the past week. I can't really describe the feelings I was having; partly because I don't know who might be reading this, and partly because it was so darned unusual for me. I live for the "now" and always have. I can describe how it started though.

I was doing an honestly unrelated Internet search and happened to find an article that shocked me senseless...about an old girlfriend. Now I know what you're thinking, and it's not true. It was almost pure coincidence. Nevertheless, the article was about her brother who unknown to me, had suffered a skiing accident last year that left him a quadriplegic. I could not believe it, and it affected me quite profoundly.

Since I read that story, I have been living in 1990. Back in College, no cares, no responsibilities, and a bright future. It really has served to point out the vast gulf between what I thought would happen and what actually has. Similarly, I keep thinking about her being in a landslide of change. I wonder how she is coping?

Anyhoo...that is what set the brain to wandering. It might as well have been a hundred years ago.

Another year...another dissapointment

2008-01-02T11:40:00.001-06:00

You know damn well you are a pessimist when you can be depressed about a New Year on the second day of it. There just isn't much to look forward to. More death and destruction in the Middle East, an election year, job worries, my melancholy demeanor.

I seem to be in a funk. My mind is completely engrossed in the past recently. It's becoming dangerous. I can think of nothing else. The ease of regression is so much greater than the urge to move forward. Is this the mid-life crisis? I thought I already went through that? That was what the blue Corvette was for, wasn't it?

At least my path...however rocky...extends into another year. For that I am thankful.

Happy New Year to you eternal optimists.

Christmas Meat

2007-12-25T10:29:00.000-06:00

The whole fam-damnly is coming for my Christmas dinner today. I decided to fall back on old reliable instead of experimenting this year. Last year I had an over abundance of venison, so I think I made a venison loin roast with cranberries. I don't really remember, but several people told me last night that I had. It was, therefore, memorable. But for reasons I'm not sure were good or bad.

Merry Christmas to all resident microbes in the Pyle. I KNOW there is more than one, and remember, it would be a great Christmas present for you all to finally post!

Ancient History

2007-12-20T15:30:00.000-06:00

I did something very hard today. I apologized to someone I have not seen or spoke to in 18 years for something I did to them that still haunts me. Nothing illegal or criminal mind you...but hurtful, thoughtless, rude and uncaring nonetheless. I often think about that situation with deep regret.

Now I have finally acted like a man and set it right. Maybe I will sleep a little better tonight.

Holy Crap!

2007-12-15T09:47:00.000-06:00

I made the discovery of a lifetime at 2:30 AM this morning. The new iPod nano (as shitty as it is), has turned me on to iTunes as a new source of downloads. While checking the depth of their library, I ran across a previously unknown-to-me live EP by the band Shiner. The first song is called "Fetch a Switch", and the live version has become since last night...one of my favorite songs of all time! One of those things you hear and just know that 40 years from now...you will still be captivated by.

Dark, brooding, and with the slowgrind KC MO sound Shiner had perfected, this song has particularly simple and personal lyrics, no doubt a reflection of songwriter Epley's terrible childhood. Absolutely painful to contemplate while listening, but requiring continuous dissection afterwards, it's brilliant stuff from a brilliant band.

The song starts like this:

Brian Epley says to the crowd "Evolution is just...a theory" and the music starts. Slowly, the first verse unfolds.

Stop your crying boy / I'll make you scream.
Fetch a switch for me.
Dance for Mama boy / and get some smokes.
Don't let your Daddy see that smile.
I'll make you pay for it.

Ouch!

Listen NOW!: "1. Fetch a Switch (Live) - Shiner"

No sheep to count

2007-12-12T02:56:00.000-06:00

It's 3:00 in the morning and I can't sleep. I've found that since I have not worked, I'm much more of a night person than I ever expected I was. 5-6 hours of sleep seem to do me just fine these days.

Yesterday I went ice fishing for the day, but without much success. Today I am going to re-vamp the plans and hit a couple different spots hoping to get a few walleye for tonight's dinner. There is gnocchi with roasted tomatoes and Gorgonzola for a backup if I strike out. Sounds hard but it is really very easy to prepare. Best of all, it's Jodi's favorite dish so there are rarely complaints.

HUMmin along

2007-12-09T21:34:00.001-06:00

Anyone seen this new Cadillac CTS commercial?

Well that FANTASTIC song you hear explode after her comment is none other than the riff from "Stars" by Hum. Excellent choice, despite the fact that I now feel ancient. Cadillacs have always been "old people cars". Now MY favorite band has been pitched to the brass at Cadillac to sell cars traditionally targeted at old fogeys. They want ME in a Cadillac! I'm officially old!

Hum selling Cadillacs. Oh well, I guess it's better than selling iPods or adult diapers.

Manchester's Pride Falls

2007-12-09T00:09:00.000-06:00

Ricky Hatton has just lost to "he whom we no longer speak of" in a 10th round knockout. One person we will speak of, however, is referee Joe Cortez.

Ricky is an inside fighter and a brawler. With arms 6" shorter than "he whom we no longer speak of", his job is to get inside and well...brawl. That's exactly why I thought him the man to do the impossible, beat the undefeated blowhard senseless. Joe Cortez apparently knew nothing of the needs or wants of Ricky Hatton, nor of a brawlers only game plan against a tactician. Hell, I wonder now if Joe Cortez knows anything about boxing at all. For the first six rounds he immediately separated the two fighters as soon as Hatton got inside and began to jockey for punching position. Hello...Hello...Earth to Mr. Cortez...How about letting the man pursue his only chance at winning the fight? It was like Cortez was on the payroll of Hatton's opposition at the worst, or had his head up his own ass at the least. Everyone knew what Hatton had to do to win, and the wrong man stopped him

Unfortunately, Hatton never got an opportunity to explode from the inside. Worse, he ate so many right hands just trying to get in there, that by the 8th round when Mr. Cortez awoke from his coma or heard the check had bounced and finally let them fight, Hatton was already finished. But he was never given a chance in my opinion, and I paid $54.95 to see the worst referee job I have ever seen in boxing.

2007-12-08T15:42:00.001-06:00

Gotta love the Onion!

Reporters Expose Airport Security Lapses By Blowing Up Plane

Holiday cheer

2007-12-08T10:52:00.001-06:00

Well that did not go as I thought it would. The Christmas party that is. My wife and I got into a huge fight (primarily of my making..I'll admit) just before leaving that cast a dim shadow on the entire night. Dinner sucked (culinary wise) as it always does; eaten in a tense atmosphere of seething anticipation of resuming the fracas as soon as we could leave. By the time I abruptly terminated the night...she was locked and loaded for bear, all hell broke loose.

For the most part we are made up this morning. Cleaning the house certainly gave me an extra dog in the fight (at least she could not bring up THAT old standby). I stand by the reasoning for my displeasure, but take back my approach and timing to voicing it. We you have been married as long as we have, you learn to say "I'm sorry".

Bloody hell he's got bollocks

2007-12-07T14:54:00.000-06:00

Working for Gordon Ramsey would be both the coolest and most frustrating job in Chefdom, Yes?

F----- hell you wanker. Watch Ramsey's Kitchen Nightmares and you will find out. It's my dream job.

I hope your resting today Ricky

2007-12-07T14:31:00.001-06:00

Well tonight is the Medical Center Christmas party that I am obligated to go to. It is important to my wife, so I will attend this year. John and wife will be there, so at least I will have at least ONE person to talk to as my wife gets loaded with her co-workers. This morning was spent cleaning the house so my wife can relax this weekend. I would have done it yesterday, but cleaning on Thursday does NOT constitute having a clean house for the weekend in her eyes.

Still no word from the Executive job interview. I had been going on the fact that the interviewer stated they would probably be making the decision at the end of this week. It is down to myself and one other candidate, and I am very confident on getting an offer. Hopefully they are deciding today and will call early next week.

Tomorrow night is the big Floyd Mayweather jr. Vs. Ricky Hatton fight I have rented on pay-per-view. I HATE Mayweather. He is always walking around with thousands of dollars in cash, and flashing it to the media and anyone who will look. He is young, talented, and ungodly rich; and he wants every single person on the Earth to know it. I did not pay to see Oscar De La Hoya lose to him, because I honestly knew what the outcome would be as soon as the fight was booked. But Ricky Hatton is one tough shit, and Mayweather will have much more of a fight on his hands this time. I'm willing to pay my money to see Hatton KO him, and cut him down a few notches.

Moving Music (Redux)

2007-12-06T22:40:00.000-06:00

At a not too distant dinner party with John and his wife and Jefe, we got in a debate similar to the discussion of my last post. Jefe and I, being completely captivated by the power of both music AND it's reproduction, called out John's wife on whether she had actually ever been moved...I mean MOVED...by a piece of music. She apparently found it hilarious that I could be moved to tears by a song, or a combination of composition and playback. I in turn found it quite odd that someone had never been so affected, and set upon my wine-drunken way to produce a mixtape of those songs I could think of off the top of my head, as soon as they left for the night.

The ostensible purpose, I guess, was to see if when presented with the CD, she could at least comprehend that given the right set of memories, circumstances, place in life or environment, with the right composition...tears could flow.

I'll never know the results because it's never come up again, and I am now too embarrassed to ask. She probably ripped it to her Ipod anyway-effectively killing those tracks whose music itself, and not lyrics, were the source of emotion. Nevertheless, I thought I would share it with the world.

All of these rock/pop songs have at one time or another, and for reasons so diverse as intensely personal memories to brilliant compositional skill, reduced me to tears.

"Play crack the Sky" by Brand New
"Fake Plastic Trees" by Radiohead
"Anniversary of an Uninteresting Event" by Deftones
"Oh My" by Big Wreck
"Then she did" by Janes Addiction
"Dreams of Reason" by The Tea Party
"In this time" by The Tea Party
"Songs of Farewell and Departure" by Hum
"Roman Catholic Haircut" by Tripmaster Monkey
"Ten Years Gone" by Led Zeppelin
The entire Final Cut album by Pink Floyd.
"Call it Sleep" by Steve Vai

The Classics and blues have their own lists.

Nanopleasure

2007-12-06T21:46:00.000-06:00

My friend John gave me an early Christmas present yesterday, a brand new Ipod Nano. Now...I have oft posted of my affinity for music and my cravings for stereo gear, but I don't believe I actually ever expressed a desire for a portable MP3 player. The whole idea was anathema to me then, and now my thoughts might just as well be carved into stone and worshipped in a Greek church as a relic of divine truth.

This type of musical reproduction ABSOLUTELY SUCKS!

John was so good to give it to me, and I really appreciate the thoughtfulness of the gift; but the thing sounds like absolute shit. To think that an entire generation of kids are getting their music solely in this manner makes me shudder for the future of recorded song. Really. Obviously, users of these devices don't actually care for what the music sounds like anymore. For the most part, they can't give a shit about what it has to say either, because these interminable devices simply reduce music to background noise. Something to blare in your head while you do something, or worse, multiple somethings else.

I have a very, very modest stereo system by Audiophile standards...roughly $15,000 invested over many years of upgrade and trading. But it never fails to make the hair on my arms stand up. It can open the wonders of opera and orchestral music, point out the ridiculous, repetitive absurdity of hip-hop, or convert you to acapella or Gregorian chant. It can make you cry by bringing the sheer beauty of a composition to your ears. It can also peel the paint off the wall with the likes of Thin Lizzy or Deftones. You simply cannot do something else while it plays. The idea is sacrilegious, and the things you would miss immense.

What will future recordings sound like when my generation...apparently the last to savor the sound of the music...passes on to the HI-FI swap shop in the sky? Probably a droning variable pitch hum punctuated with reminders of emails to return, groceries to get, and who won last nights game. 24/7 background-input-shit muzak with neither artistry nor intent. Blame not the artists, but the delivery mechanism.

Miracle Planet

2007-12-05T10:14:00.000-06:00

So I'm watching some nature show on TV...it was either Miracle Planet or Planet Earth...I'm not sure, but anyway, one of those shows with a Richard Attenborough type narrative in which the voice seems locked in orgasm because the camera found a tadpole in a South American jungle cesspool. The show had a good bit to do with communication, which got me to thinking.

These things as well, occur on Plant Earth.

Two middle-aged men are drinking coffee on the way to a fishing tournament when the conversation hits a lag. Suddenly the cab of the pickup is filled with a acrid, sulphur-like odor. The stench is overpowering...fed by last nights foraging on Busch Lite, nachos, and half a case of Slim Jims. After the prerequisite hang time, the perpetrator turns to the victim and makes an announcement.

"Pheasant Guts", he says with a grin that conveys the required pride of ownership. The victim, in a moment of instant recognition and appreciation of the similarity, grins back, and the silence resumes during the savoring until other topics are found.

The superiority and complexity of both verbal and nonverbal Human communication has just been demonstrated. Merely two spoken words has changed the situation from an emergency reach-for-the-window-button dash, to a calm olfactory sampling (albeit tentatively). The unique Human power of language has instantly counteracted and prevented the normal animal response of pain avoidance.

It's all part of our Miracle Planet.

It's official now...

2007-12-04T01:07:00.000-06:00

I've been gone too long. How do I know? Well, the only site I really ever followed took me off HER spinsterish blogroll, presumably due to lack of activity on my own. This action comes from a woman who updates her webcam on her blog once every two years.

Go figure.

Well I'm back, and putrid with the odor of the Pyle once again. How much I've missed these scat-laden musings over the months, should be readily apparent by the frequency of their appearances. Catharsis by blog? A journey of self-discovery? An alter-egoish identity by which to voice (and therfore conquer) your fears? Hardly folks. I now realize that this little blog was, on some level, work. Work is not something I've done much of in the preceding 12 months. My God it's amazing how far I ran.

So...after months of formal Psychotherapy (thanks Doc Steve), I have been left now with a fair idea of how to properly visualize my situation, and the next baby step out of it. The result? I've concluded I'm up to my neck in it, and about to take in a proper mouthful. "Bet it taste like chicken" will be baby step #2, number one was the whole of the year 2007. Not much has changed. You see, it's like the Young & the Restless...I have not tuned in since college, but I'll bet you one of my mothers popcorn farts that the characters and story are the same as ever. Where has the year gone? Who the fux knows, but it sure was an expensive trip for the as-yet-to-be-employed amongst us, a group I can't seem to extricate myself from. I hope membership does not last as long as the "Trekkie" clique did. That was a social disaster.

Truth be told, I have had three job interviews; all in the past month. One was for a menial cooking job at a local restaurant that I frequent, and the other two were the primary and secondary interviews for an executive position as a transportation division manager at a large and reputable company. Talk about a varied career interest. That's akin to saying I left an interview for a McDonald's part-time janitor position, just in time to catch my flight to CIA headquarters in Langley VA so I could interview for the soon-to-be vacant position of Mid-East Intelligence Chief.

I actually think I will be offered the executive position this week. I will follow that up in a later post under the heading "How much are your principles worth?"

I KNOW you're salivating already.

AVERT YOUR EYES Ye Sensitive Lasses!

2007-12-04T01:01:00.000-06:00

November in Wisconsin! I'm sorry Donna that Joddi is turned the wrong way for your gratification.

Let's talk about torture

2007-04-09T09:46:00.000-05:00

Very simple idea. 1000 NordicTrak exercise machines (identical to the one in my basement) are bought by the Government and shipped to the detainee camp in Guantanamo bay. The "Enemy Combatants" are forced at gunpoint to use them at, let's say, 45 minute sessions maintaining an average of 6.5 MPH, three times a day. Not enough to kill a man...but goddamn close.

For every name they release (and I guarantee you they will), they are allowed to drop the required average MPH by 1 MPH. Each will immediately recognize the folly of their pursuits, and soon be lazily cross-country skiing at a 3-4 Mph pace, having divulged the names of at least 2 fellow terrorists. Multiply that by 1000, and you have real progress.

What can the press or the Public say about that? The Nordic track is not a recognized torture device (though it surely qualifies), and you are bettering the health of the detainee population. Radical Muslim Extremists would be terrified of any Western technology after being forced to use a NordicTrak. Jihad would be called for against Scandinavian Countries for the act of inventing cross-country skiing; gaining us valuable allies in the War on Terror. Soon we could airdrop thousands of machines into the border regions of Afghanistan...broadcast NordicTrak commercials into Iran as a deterrent...even send one as a gift to President Pervez M. in Pakistan with a wink and a smile.

It's all very simple, and if you have ever seriously used one of these machines you know it to be true...YOU WILL DO ANYTHING IN YOUR POWER TO GET OFF THE FRICKEN THING!

Foolproof.

Happy Day After Easter

2007-04-09T09:35:00.000-05:00

Easter came and went yesterday, seeing me spend it with my parents for the first time in many years. Normally Jodi and I go to her parents house on the shores of Green Bay for a large family reunion/Easter meal...but this year I felt different about going. Too many people asking too many questions; too few explanations and answers. I felt safer celebrating with my parents, who know exactly what the score is and why I am where I am.

So she went to Green Bay and I stayed home. Of course she took the dog, so it was just me and the little man (scotch) left to bachelor it for the weekend. Not that hard when all you are doing is exercising and counting calories. I managed to clean the house...that's about it. I blew my diet on my Mom's wonderful cooking and it was worth E V E R Y bite.

Turkey Hunt

2007-04-07T16:10:00.000-05:00

If you took a mans scrotum complete with twin berries, chafed it up with a rasp, infected it with smallpox, scalded it in boiling water, then beat it black and blue with a ball bat....you would have a reasonable representation of the head of Meleagris gallopavo...The North American Wild Turkey.

Unquestionably..from the chest up..THE ugliest fucking bird on the planet. I shot this one a couple of weeks ago because, despite the looks, the eats are great.
That's John K's son Zach on the right with his similarly ugly Tom.

Shiftless

2007-04-07T15:00:00.000-05:00

one of the things I miss about working (yes I am STILL sans job), was that I was inevitably parked in front of my computer all day. If I had a thought...or some would say the absence of one...I could post it on here as it happened. Now I am running around somewhere tying up loose ends, and I think something, and say "That needs to be blogged", but I always have something else on my mind when I actually COULD do it.

You, the faithful, suffer as a result.

While that may not be quite the truth, we all know that a daily step into Gomer's Pyle is just the olfactory assault you need to finally come to grips with the fact that your life is not quite so rank as you thought. The deliciously oozy feeling you get when the Pyle is forced between your toes, serves as a constant reminder that they do, really, need to be washed occasionally. For your own well being.

So...prepare for the treatment. Gomer's Spa has just the right Eau de Pyle' to bring you to aromatherapy nirvana. A catch-up session packing 100% of the U.S. RDA of pungent, shiftless, nonsensical, blogging claptrap.

1. Since my last post the snow is gone. It's now brown and ugly...but that much closer to fishing season.

2. Since my last post, I have sold the gun I creamed my jeans over last summer because I did not really like it. The money will be applied to wine...which I am quite sure I enjoy.

3. I have a line on a job...even a damned good looking resume', but nobody has seen it yet. (I keep telling myself it might work that way if I will it enough.)

4. My tournament partner and I have secured another paying sponsor to our fishing season. That is an incredible financial relief. Now only a paltry 73% of our costs remain uncovered. No fucking wonder I went out of business.

5. I've sold a few more fishing rods for less than it cost me to build them...ditto #4.

6. Maximum Impact Rods is sponsoring a spring-league sporting clays team, of which I am of course a member. Never mind that it costs $225 to sponsor the team, and I don't really have a business, nor any kind of offsetting income. Ditto #4...but I thought the shirts would look cool.

7. I am finally exercising. This is a fact evidenced by my belts becoming too big. I have attacked the process with my usual freakish obessionism, which conclusively has contributed to my nearly broken ankle, pulled leg muscles and tender buttocks. It is also making me much more regular...which in turn...makes your daily dose of Gomer's Pyle easier to obtain. (No Hawaii or Alaskan orders please...I am currently shipping only to the contiguous 48.)

8. Last but not least...I think I am feeling more optimistic about my future. The combination of the good looking resume' along with the regular exercises, has proven to me that I am finally of the mindset to grab the bull by the balls and risk the goring. I may just get a job, quit thinking about fishing 24 hours a day, and re-enter society.

I said I may. Digging deep enough into the Pyle reveals plenty 'nuff self loathing left to keep your feet happy for a while. I think I will go fishing.

It's in like a lion

2007-03-01T15:22:00.000-06:00

I guess we're having what they call a blizzard here in Wisconsin.

I have not seen it snow this hard since sometime way back in my childhood...about 3"-4" per hour. The forecast is for up to 22" of snow, blown around wildly by 35 mph winds, then more tomorrow and ending Saturday.

Sweet. I don't even have anything to get "closed" on me (a benefit of unemployment), so it's just another day of laying around watching TV.

And plowing snow.

Today makes me VERY glad I don't have 30 tractor-trailers and drivers on the road anymore. Guaranteed...those folks are having some MAJOR problems right about now!

Road trip

2007-02-27T17:39:00.000-06:00

Everyone is on vacation except me! I'm unemployed, I can spare the time, yet for some strange reason I am here dealing with everyone's problems except my own while they bask somewhere in Margaritaville. I'm watching houses, selling real-estate, dogsitting, and generally being the whipping boy for those more "blessed" to be away from this god-awful snow.

I want to leave; to just take off. Like some freakshow runaway-bride...headed out of State at precisely the time everyone is looking for her...I have contemplated hooking up the boat and just starting to drive; driving away miles while I drive up the credit card. Destination UNKNOWN, but assuredly some place loaded with bass to cure my cabin fever. A large effigy of a hand wielding the middle finger on the rear window of the Tahoe, not-so-symbolically telling the world to F---off as I drive into spontaneous adventure. I want to be alone...but not like this. Not here, but on a lake with my rods, my boat, and my thoughts.

Lake Baccarac in Mexico?
Lake Fork in Texas?
Lake Toho in Florida?
Perhaps, but most likely nowhere. Most likely here. Most likely miserable.

Goddamnned responsibility always seems to win.

Eddie, this is the real tomato ketchup.

2007-02-23T18:30:00.000-06:00

Why is it that the local rock scene around Champaign/Urbana Il. & Kansas City MO produced so many great bands during the mid to late 90s? I've just discovered another one I had previously overlooked, a now defunct band called Shiner. Just another excellent but unrecognized contributor to what I call "Grain belt" post-rock...that special, unique, and quite excellent sound of bands from mid-sized cities of the lower Midwest.

Shiner is quickly becoming one of my favorite bands of all time (and that says a LOT because I am a music FREAK who regularly listens to everything from Opera to Electronica). This is not the "woe is me-I've got a zit-my gal left me and I hate my parents" claptrap that passes for alternative rock THESE days. The prepubescent post-emo dorks who are now so popular could really learn a thing or two about musicianship from the grain-belt bands of the 90s. That was music you had to listen to. Music you had to think about...and it made you want to think.
If you know any HUM at all, you know exactly what I'm talking about.

Why the hell was I in lame old Western Wisconsin during the early 90s, when I could have been doing just as much drinking in some city further south? The difference is I would have been doing it while seeing shows by the likes of Castor, Hum, Shiner, and many others. That CU/KC sound is so different, like the Seattle sound was during the same period. So different and so fresh...and it still is.

I'm now in a panic, and redoubling my efforts to track down even MORE music from the grain-belt 90's before they are lost to history. To think I almost missed discovering Shiner makes me cringe...and wonder how much more I've been missing.

So what have I really been doing?

2007-02-22T11:42:00.000-06:00

Shh...don't tell anyone, but I have been on a rodbuilding frenzy since January. Head over to the rodbuilding page for a peek at some of my recent projects.

Violence will ensue

2007-02-20T21:14:00.000-06:00

If my mother asks me one more time "have you found a job yet?".
If I have to explain to one more fucking person why I wasn't able to "just retire".

There are a host of other things that could elicit a violent reaction from me given my current state, but these are the sure bets.

Ahhh.....Heaven

2007-02-20T20:45:00.000-06:00

THANK YOU JEFE for being so generous with that 1999 Remelluri Rioja! It was heaven in a bottle, drunk so selfishly whilst my wife was away in FL. Sorry honey!

I have not had a comparable bottle in a long, long time!

I MUST be F-en crazy!

2007-02-19T13:59:00.000-06:00

All I can think about lately is starting another business! Imagine that...having not been trounced thoroughly enough by the business world...I desire to remake myself within it's twisted punishment.

You see, I am somewhat obsessive. When I get something into my head (like building a theater room), I can't stop until I know everything there is to know about it. I don't rest until I do it, and can't stop thinking of it until it's done. It's of that quirk that I should be guaranteed to find a good job. I should be focused on it. Obsessing about it. I should be living and breathing it...but I'm not, and it's ruining me.

I find myself thinking (quite responsibly) for a short spell about finding employment, then I relapse into obsessing about starting my own rodbuilding component company. Planning, calculating, dreaming, theorizing and...wishing. It's damnable frustrating because I then feel guilty for wasting so much mindfuel on what, by all accounts, would probably be a losing enterprise that would provide less of the sorely needed income than unemployment. But I can't shake it. My mind races constantly about the possibilites, stopping only briefly to engage in argument with itself about the looming realities of neglecting the search for more...ehm.."promising employment".

Then to make matters even more antagonizing, I start to wonder if all this thought and effort about being once more a "bidness" man is'nt what it's really all about. Afterall, this is how ideas become reality. This is how hard work becomes fortune. This just may be myself telling myself to go down the one true path and ignore the diversion of finding gainful employment.

Or maybe it's just me being obsessive ol'me. The same as when I saw my future wife for the first time and said aloud "that's the girl I'm going to marry". The same as when I poured every resource I could think of into how to obtain a $26,000 bassboat before I even has my drivers license to tow it around. The same as when I became convinced that Jefe and I could really build a home theater from the ground up on our own. Night and day of living the idea to the finest detail in my head, at the expense of other things around me. It's how I work. It's how I tick.

Funny thing is...they were all successful.

I've Been Remiss..

2007-02-05T08:09:00.000-06:00

in keeping up with this blog. Things are starting to level off for me a little, but I am still unemployed. I finally am able to receive unemployment compensation, and that helps a bit...but the bills are adding up at a much faster rate.

I'm forced to contact at least two employers every week to receive my payments. Funny thing is, there is no differentiation placed on what skill level or pay scale you seek. I'm a former CEO who can now contact McDonalds for burger-flipping duties and keep his unemployment money coming in. Cool. When I mention a six figure salary for doing it...they never call back. But I jest somewhat, because I really would like to find gainful employment. I'm just not sure what I want to do quite yet.

There is still so much going on with the business closure that I should still be getting paid full time for my duties there, but I am not. I'm negotiating the sale of three commercial properties, getting sued every week, closing a business AND looking for work all simultaneously. Oh and don't forget...I cook and clean at the homestead while the perennial breadwinner does her thing. Got a load of towels to wash as soon as I get home.

In short...I'm still alive. I've got my Zoloft and my friends, along with many, many, damn good bottles of wine. I've got unemployment coming in, and HDTV in two rooms to kill the time. What more could a loser ask for?

How about a better self image to start. Yes tis true. The Gomer you all know and love...secure in his shit, intelligent to fault, and master of his domain...has sunk to new levels of self pity and loathing. I believe it has begun to sink in just how fucked I really am. Although I reach daily for my bootstraps on which to give a heave...I never seem to find them. It struck home with thunderous doom the day I was asked, when inquiring about a management position, "describe your management accomplishments and provide examples of success using figures and achievements".

"Well let's see" I'm thinking. I'm 38 and never worked for anyone except my family business. Oh yeah dude, did I mention how I ran it into the ground when I became President? Record time my friend. I had that Company completely turned around in five years..that's right dude...five short years to utter failure. But enough resume' chit-chat, let's see what you've got to offer me in the way of a big freakin salary."

"Good day Mr.Gomer. You'll be hearing from us".

And that's all she wrote.

I'm still around

2007-01-19T11:14:00.000-06:00

too busy to post...must find work...send help.

Abondon me not ye faithful reader(s), for I am still Gomer.

Wasteland

2006-12-10T10:23:00.000-06:00

For the first time in 27 years, the building that was my life looks different. I have never seen the parts room, shop office, drivers lounge and machine shop completely empty. The parts room (with the exception of changing inventory) looked EXACTLY on the day of the sale, as it had when I first saw it in 1980 and everyday since then. Now it is totally empty. It is like seeing your spouse of 27 years come home with plastic surgery, a new hairstyle and a change of wardrobe all in the same day. The familiarity is gone in a second...replaced by someone you struggle to accept

An old friend whose familiar smell and sounds now stands completely lifeless, has finally succumbed to the withering disease that has been our last years. In some ways, it is the saddest part of the whole damn thing. This place used to pulse with life and activity...filled with the oddest mix of characters you would ever want to meet. Someday I may bore you with some of the more interesting ones, but for now, I sit in solemn silence surrounded by the memories and material of what once was flowing lifeblood.

Another Saturday

2006-12-09T07:49:00.000-06:00

So now I guess the real crap starts, because I am sitting here on a Saturday morning waiting for people to show up and start picking things up. There was to be a man here at 7 AM, so I was here at 6:30 and I have not seen hide nor hair of him yet at 7:45.

I have better things to do with my time now than sit here like a dumbshit.

It's amazing how trusting people still are in this day and age. Once bought, the objects from yesterday became immediate property...and responsibility...of the highest bidder. All participants were instructed to secure acquisitions right away, as we held no responsibility for lost or stolen items. This morning there are things laying all over. Several people asked me yesterday if they could come back later next week to pickup things...things that were and are still..sitting OUTSIDE! I personally know of one theft yesterday, as a friend of mine bought a couple of things that were "missing" when he went to load them up. Every time I have bought at an auction, it gets loaded immediately before I start shopping again. Thieves are everywhere, and very opportunistic. Trust NO ONE!

The situation of the body laid out in our former drivers lounge still has me shaken up. I will never forget the sight of it, nor the sheer sense of panic I felt due to my already considerable stress at the time.

Real Time Auction Report

2006-12-08T14:24:00.000-06:00

The sale is happening, and for the most part, it's going well except for one thing...

A man keeled over dead. No shit. A guy had what everyone guesses was a massive coronary and dropped dead where he stood. Some first responder trained auction bidders started CPR right away, with my wife doing the breathing part. They continued until the EMTs came, but it ultimately proved fruitless. The med-flight helicopter was onsite when the ambulance EMTs waved him off and pronounced the man dead. Then we had to wait for the Medical Examiner and Coroner to remove the body. All this while hundereds of agitated bidders looked on and waited.

All this time the sale is trying to go forward. I feel very bad for the family of the deceased man, and my wife was very shook up that a man died right under her, but the disruption to the sale may prove the biggest fatality of all. Some people left, others got mad. Mass confusion reigned for about an hour, and then a general malaise for another two.

Just now I hear the auctioneers entering the part of the facility to continue the sale in the area just cleared of the body. Whaddya gonna do? The sale HAS to continue. I just hope people are not too freaked out. I'm a fricken wreck.

I can't fucking believe someone died at my auction. Of all the things you plan for, this aint one of them.

Well...It's Here

2006-12-07T15:41:00.000-06:00

The night before the last day of the first part of my life. All the ducks are in a row, and the last minute prep has been completed. All that is really left to do is nurse the ulcer with a stiff drink...and wait. Friday, December 8th will dawn just as any other day always has. The sun will rise and set, people will come and go, and I will watch in slow motion view the dismantling process around me.

It will be frantic and depressing (not to mention damned cold), but I am ready. We are ready. We have to be, because the sun is predicted to rise.

I am either strangely calm or dead fricken tired, I can't quite place the feeling.

Is there anybody out there?

2006-12-04T14:26:00.000-06:00

Where the hell is everyone?

The big auction sale is just around the corner. It's going to be so big they have to bring in porta-potties to handle the crowd.

You KNOW you have made the big time when something you put on requires porta-potties. What a scene it will be, 300-400 people dismantling my life piece by $10 piece.

...and then stopping by the lunch wagon for a hot dog before leaving a deposit in the porta-pottie. When it's done, all I will have left is a bucket full of piss, and I will have to pay someone to dispose of that as well.

Current Music

2006-12-01T09:07:00.000-06:00

I picked up the latest Deftones release "Saturday Night Wrist" at Censorship-Mart the other day, and all I can say is "WOW". Even the edited version still gave me goose-bumps.

The Deftones have always been great in my opinion, but with SNW, they finally come of age. I've been a fan since day one...and SNW is their best effort to date. It is absolutely stunning. Chino's vocals are as haunting and melodic as I have ever heard, and the arrangements shatter the Nu-Metal moniker that has dragged the band down since "Around the Fur". With SNW, the Deftones pay homage to their traditions while taking the music to a higher...and nearly perfect level.

HIGHLY Recommended.

Spare the coochie Ms. Spears

2006-11-30T11:21:00.000-06:00

I've been away from the Internet for a while, so I've missed the biggest story since Paris Hilton's sex tape. Turns out Ms. Spear's stubble ridden beaver is plastered all over the net...completely exposed in all it's Cesarean scarred glory.

I could not resist finding a pic and taking a gander because, you know, she IS famous and all. I was disappointed find it looked very similar to others I've seen, except in much poorer condition. Imagine that...we all look the same underneath our money and fame.

My conclusion is there is nothing special about her baby maker, other than the fact that it's life support system is worth billions. That may be true, but it has the same curiosity factor as looking at the air intake of a Ferrari Modena...even parts of a famous machine are topics of discussion.

An Independant in '08

2006-11-29T08:41:00.000-06:00

The pig farming and illegal boxing caucus from Wisconsin nominated Bricktop as their candidate for the next President of the United States in a press release issued yesterday.

At a press conference Bricktop replied, when asked about his stance on the Iraq war:

"If I throw a dog a bone, I don't want to know what it fucking tastes like, and if you interrupt me again whilst I'm walking, I'll cut your Jacobs off."

Members of the opposition could not be found for comment.

One more thing

2006-11-28T14:29:00.000-06:00

Since I have not posted in a while, I'm overdoing it today.

Since Hudson died, most of my friends knew that I was hesitant to do any more hunting. My experience with that dog taught me much about animals and their relationship to us.

As such, the only deer I had harvested since her death was in 2004, and that experience only solidified what I was feeling at the time...I had out-grown hunting.

Just this year I started to take bowhunting serious again, though I was still not planning to gun hunt. Something must have happened along the way, because my lifelong passion for the hunt had begun to return. And even though I have chosen not to shoot yet during this bow season, I once again felt I was up to the responsibility of harvesting an animal for food and sport. It was a major milestone for me since losing my handicapped dog.

When I pulled the trigger on this years buck, I felt the old familiar rush of excitement and achievement that had been long absent. I literally shook for 5 minutes on the stand after the shot...as all my assumed absent feelings welled up inside me and burst out in a fit of "buck fever" the intensity of which I had NEVER experienced. It was better than any drug I've ever had. Period.

It is now clear that I have come to terms with whatever was holding me back from a sport I so dearly loved. If it ever returns, I will not hesitate to quit once again.

Hell's Kitchen Tuition

2006-11-28T09:02:00.000-06:00

ONE of the POSSIBLE paths to future employment enjoyment for me is becoming a Chef. Not a cook, not a part-time hash slinger...but a bona fide, classically trained Chef.

I absolutely LOVE to create, cook, and serve food. It's one of my hobbies I really enjoy. As part of any rational investigation of this path, I began to inquire about schooling.

Le Cordon Bleu is the place for classic French Culinary training, and with a satellite campus nearby in MN, it seems a logical place to start. After a couple of exchanged voice mails, we finally connected for a conversation in which they were very hesitant to tell me about the costs involved. You can't fool me with talk of "Financial Assistance", "Campus Interviews" and "Earnings Potential"...I need bottom line figures to make sound decisions. Call it a mutation from my business experience. After beating around the bush, I finally had to flat out tell them not to call me again unless they were prepared to discuss costs. With that, she choked it out, and it hit the floor like a dropped dish:

The 15 month Culinary Arts program costs $42,500. That does not include any room and board or travel costs, which would be considerable for me.

WOW! No wonder they don't want to discuss tuition on the phone. I am sure when they breech the subject at the "Campus Interview" they have both financial aid and EMT personnel waiting in the wings for those who don't take it so well.

Thanksgiving Slump

2006-11-28T08:48:00.000-06:00

Even though this week is crazy busy with prep for the sale, last week was sort of laid back. The crew cleaning and organizing for the sale were deer hunters, and last week was Wisconsin's 9 day gun deer season. Throw in a holiday...and it made for a lazy week.

For the first time in 10 years I was able to enjoy the entire deer season on any schedule I wanted. It will probably be the last time as well. I stayed at the shack most of the time, even sometimes completely alone. Not that I am scared of the dark or anything...I'm no pansy...but being in the middle of nowhere alone in a shack in the middle of the woods is a little unnerving at first. Think Blair Witch shit and you will get some sort of idea.

On Sunday of the last weekend I managed to get my scope on only the second "shooter" buck I saw all season. I made a miraculous shot (312 yards, thank you very much) and dropped him in his tracks to end my season. J and I cut him up and packaged all the meat, then off to the taxidermy man for a shoulder mount.

I will always remember this deer season because of where I am with my life, but also because it was very nearly the "perfect season". Plenty of time, good weather, great friends and family.

...even if I did leave the TV on all night at the shack to ward off the boogey man when I was alone!

Everybody toots

2006-11-14T08:42:00.000-06:00

Saturday night we had another wild night of scrabble debate with Tom & Jenny. The intricacies of board games aside, the chili Jenny made was out-of-this-world good. So good, I helped myself to three bowels of the bean-laden gas main.

Imagine my glee when I awoke on Sunday to find an old friend had stopped by for the day...chronic flatulence I call "Toot". I decided to make our day together fun, so right away I called a meeting to plan the days events while I brushed my teeth. My friend was very vocal during this discussion...so much so that I feared my wife would hear he had arrived. Her not liking unannounced house guests and all, I feared for the worst and quickly pinched off the discussion. But Toot had brought his wife...a friend to Jodi...who rudely woke her up. I could hear their discussion heating up. I smelled a fight brewing as they made plans for their day together.

Our first activity was some outside work. Toot, afflicted with a blinding sulfur odor, appreciates the outdoors so as to not draw attention to himself. I have to admit, I appreciate our time outdoors as well, and for exactly the same reason. I dressed for work and went outside only to hear Toot screaming every time I bent over. Coveralls are Toots nemesis, and every man who has similar friends knows why. You see...Toot was trapped. When Toot is trapped he lingers, and lingering is something Toot and I don't like to do together. I shed my coveralls for Toot's sake, and our morning became much more enjoyable. As I worked...he wafted.

That afternoon Toot and I went bowhunting. Now, Toot rarely goes hunting with me, but frequently accompanies me fishing. Toot himself is the first to acknowledge that his presence can scare deer, and today he was capable of removing paint from the walls. So to make him feel more comfortable, I dressed us in Scent Blocker Plus carbon clothing...kind of like Harry Potter's invisible cloak...only for Toot's kind.
I had to test our disguise, so I called out to Toot. No answer. I could have sworn I felt the door open, heard the rush of air as he entered the room, even a faint whisper of his voice; but the tell-tale sign of his presence was nowhere to be smelled. Perfect. Toot could now enjoy bowhunting without ruining it for me. It was a milestone in our friendship.

By the time we got home, I could tell Toot was getting tired. Appearing stale and weak, he could no longer play as many times in an hour as he once could, and I could sense our visit coming to an end. Despite his pleas for an Old Style (his energy drink of choice) to buy some more time, I told Toot he must move on. Sometime during the night, Toot and his wife "Tweet" silently left our house. And although Jodi claims their smell will linger for days, it's a small price to pay for companionship.

It's always nice to have company, but it's nice to see them leave as well. I'll see you again soon Toot. Thursday night is Mexican night...don't be late.

Angel of Death

2006-11-14T08:25:00.000-06:00

Macy Black Demon (her Native American name) woke me up at 2:39 AM by propping her paws on my face as I lay sleeping. She must have had a lapse in sleep and thought "what the hell, he's getting up in 3 hours anyway. I think I'll just speed it along a bit". I thought of six painful ways for her to die before I reached the front door to let her out.

I couldn't get back to sleep, so I made two poached eggs and some toast while I watched the Military Channel. I watched for 3 hours. It's going to be a damn long day.

Insert meaningless title here

2006-11-13T08:40:00.001-06:00

What a depressing weekend. I took off work Thursday & Friday...wait a minute...Oh yeah right, I'm not employed. Start again please.

Thursday & Friday of last week I decided to do something else, and finished off my bowhunting for the year. I did not get anything, but it was more enjoyable than arguing with lawyers. Joddi and I got together and wasted some time shooting blackpowder rifles and looking for pheasants, but the REAL time waster came when I got home Saturday night.

Cinemax was running a Star Wars marathon all weekend. Episodes I - VI, back to back, and on a permanent loop! Ohhh boy, we're gonna waste some time now! I immediately got hooked and watched until early into the morning. Nevermind I have all of these on DVD. Nevermind I have seen them each 5-6 times. I came from the "original" Star Wars generation...before the advent of DVD and movie channels. You saw the movie in the cinema...and did not get to see it again unless you bought another ticket. Then you waited for years for another installment. They were NEVER on TV, and today's kids have NO idea how much anticipation that system built. Epochs in your life were measured by release dates of the original three episodes.

I felt like a kid again watching all those movies. I watched out of pure spite for all those years George Lucas strung me along as a child. I watched as if seeing my life of 38 years condensed into 14 hours of film.

Put me in Coach

2006-11-08T07:17:00.000-06:00

I seem to be getting a new summons about every other day. Not that I don't understand why people want to sue me...I do...it's just that being sued is complete anathema to my personality. I've always been an honest and upfront guy. Litigation is for crooks and thieves.

Ironically, being the most upstanding and honest of Humans does not make you immune from being on someones shit list. I've never sued anyone even though I could and should have many times. I guess this makes me stupid. When some of my debtors over the years have filed bankruptcy on ME, and left me with nothing to show for bills as large as $40,000, I had to step back and ask myself who really was to blame. It is the nature of business to consume every thing it can, even when you try to prevent it. The whirling black hole of corporate finance knows no self restraint...it never questions it's own feeding habits...it just consumes as long as there is an available food source. My experiences on both sides of the food chain have taught me the frenzy intensifies when food sources are limited.

Credit limits, while never arbitrary, are nonetheless voluntary. IF I LET an entity feed unrestricted, it will. So who is to blame when there is nothing to pay the bill for the feast? Is it the provider or the consumer? It is almost always a case of absent resources rather than malicious intent that provokes these Corporate banquets, but it is always cooperative ignorance that allows them to continue. Guilty as charged on BOTH counts.

Looking back on all those thousands of dollars the bankruptcy system turned away from me, I tend to favor blaming myself. In those cases I allowed the feeding to continue, blinded by the revenue in the computer, and ignorant of cash in hand. It was "my bad" for the most part, as those bellying to the table were themselves driven by an opportunistic and insatiable Corporate appetite. I enabled through complicity, knowing I was victim long before it was official.

So it is with my current reversal from Creditor to Debtor. I've played compliant victim, now I am apparently malicious perpetrator. The "cycle" is complete, and those manning helms as today's latest carrion can only look forward to enjoying the reversal when their time comes to feed for free. Playing the game guarantees it's survival...and also your turn on offense.

I've become my Dad!

2006-11-07T13:50:00.000-06:00

As I sort through a 10,000 sq foot building housing 79 years of debris, I find myself reluctant to dispose of things that are clearly junk. I've become Bob...the consummate pack rat. My father Bob will absolutely NOT dispose of anything...even if the only value left in it is the particles of matter waiting to be recycled by the cosmos. It's still worth something to him. Bob's affliction is partly a result of the times in which he was raised, but mostly it's a genetic family trait thought to be recessive and tending to skip every other generation...until now.

I look at the sheer volume of things slated for disposal and think I am throwing away money based on the volume of junk alone. I mean, in a pile this big, someone should be able to scrounge a couple bucks from somewhere, right? Of course, I know I am wrong. Nobody except a sub-Saharan tribesman would use the computer stuff we are tossing, and they would probably use it to carry water to their families. Old manuals for software (many dating back to the DOS era), hundreds of old disks, obsolete BNC routers, broken monitors, switches, mice and keyboards...you know...Ejunk. But stack all this crap into ONE PLACE, and you begin thinking you should start a store. In my office, I sort have done just that, as I find myself spiriting away junk to accumulate based on the premise that it has intrinsic value if none financially.

I have 52...yes 52 stray IEC power cords for computers and misc related gizmos. 24 stray "wall wart" power supplies that the gods of computer trash only know where the poor, unpowered device it mated with is lurking. I have dozens of parallel cables, slightly fewer serial, and 1 lonesome USB without a machine. Don't even mention the cardboard box of just phone cords. Must be hundreds. My God, did they EVER throw anything away here in the 60 years prior to me? But this shit is on the SHELVES in the local Wal-Mart. Whaddya mean it's junk?

Remember the hereditary affliction Bob's syndrome? This was a family business, you can guess the answer to that one.

Pheasant frenzy!

2006-11-06T14:13:00.000-06:00

The results of the pheasant hunt at Forest Ridge would NOT tell you I was the class B sporting clays champ. I think I missed the first 5 roosters I drew a bead on!

I took out my trusty Stoeger Uplander Supreme grouse gun for the day...and it proved anything but trusty. Apparently, highpower payloads this gun does NOT like. I would shoot one barrel, then the other would not fire on the inevitable follow-up shot after my miss. Never had that happen with much lighter partridge loads in this piece.

The Uplander is never hunting pheasant again, or anything else requiring a high-brass, max dram payload for that matter. I don't care how light and easy to carry it is. At least I could blame my gun for the escaping birds.

18 hunters bagged around 65 pheasants for the day. It was a far cry from the 90 birds we bought and were released into the 400 acres, but enough to get 4 or 5 birds per person for the freezer. John's lab Chyna was in rare form again, accounting for nearly all the flushes in our group of 6 hunters. She was incredible, finding and flushing 29 of the 30 birds released into our 95 acre field. Now if only the shooters had done their part that well! Anyway, the food and the company were great. I walked enough to easily get into the guiness book of records for distance traveled by a hominid, but it was good for me.

Help me Matt Foley!

2006-11-01T14:01:00.000-06:00

Well here it is already November 1st. Man how time flies when you are being tortured. A couple of months ago John K. asked me to a pheasant hunt on November 4th. For $80 a person we could reserve the Forest Ridge Hunt Club for a day, have a nice steak dinner, and enjoy the company of about 20 of our closest friends.

Who knew the shit storm was right around the corner?

Little did I know at the time I accepted that I would be up to my rectum in this whole mess. Thing is, right now I REALLY need to go do things like this. Even though I shouldn't, I'm going to take the time off and have some fun to keep my sanity. Saturday should be a great day.

I am still no closer to having any idea what to do with the rest of my life, and that's a nagging pain always in the back of my mind. If I was the consummate multi-tasker I could accomplish lawsuits, closing a business, having an auction, and being overwhelmed with tasks that have deadlines all at the same time as I reflect on my future aspirations and ponder my true course in life.

Yeah right...and pigs will someday fly from my ass. Until then chaos reigns supreme, with sometimes a barely coherent thought of the future in the moments before sleep consumes my exhausted mind. Going out of business is hard work. I'm ready for the "going" to become "gone", if for no other reason than to free my mind to think of other things.

Relics

2006-10-25T15:23:00.000-05:00

Does anyone know how to get rid of A LOT of old office furnishings? Jesus Christmas have I got a bunch!

You operate in business for 79 years, you tend to...ahh..."accumulate" things. What in the name of Columbus am I ever going to do to get rid of it all? Old desks, chairs, dividers, adding machines, file folders, cabinets, myriads of office supplies...it is a mountain of stuff that MUST have value to someone. It's GOT to have value, because I need the money.

I have 14 tape dispensers alone...you know...the old style ones with fricken concrete in the base so it stays where you put it? People barely need one...I own a bakers dozen.

The auctioneer does not want to waste his time with the office stuff. After all, we only have one day to sell everything that will be sold, so we can't do it one stapler at a time. How 'bout a box of 23 for a $5? Hardly worth the effort.

First Blood

2006-10-25T09:52:00.000-05:00

I forgot to mention that while we were engaged in the fierce pitcher killing championship Monday night, John got a call from his youngest boy Zack. Seems Zack had just gotten his first deer with a bow and needed Dad to come out and give him a hand. So John left the bar and went to the woods to help his son in what was sure to be a memory making experience for both of them. These are the kind of moments that make me regret not having a child.

I remember my first bow killed deer and how I was so proud of that accomplishment. Thing is, there was nobody around to share my excitement. My Dad was, and still is, the 180 degree opposite of myself, and had never hunted a day in his life. Nobody congratulated me or encouraged me to retell the story over and over, and no one could quite understand my excitement let alone share in it.

Zack and John are completely different. They are attached at the hip when it comes to outdoors pursuits. Zack learns from John, and in turn John learns from Zack. This is a great start for a young hunter, and that quite frankly I wished I had also had.

Ringers

2006-10-24T08:23:00.000-05:00

I'm off the intellectual mode today and back to the woodsy he-man type. I choose modes every morning based on what I have to wear to work. Today it is boots, carhartts and gloves because I'm outside and dirty all day. Yesterday it was dress slacks and shirt, Born shoes and a leather jacket. I'm so versatile it's scary.

Last night I was called in as a pinch-hitter for the Kittle team at the local pub. Seems there is a corny college contest (say that five times fast) they have entered into, in which the only objective is to see which 4 person team can consume the most pitchers of beer during happy hour. The contest runs for an entire semester, and tallys are kept on a chart behind the bar. The prize is a T-Shirt, but ostensibly the real prize is in the pursuit.

Those poor frat boys will never know what hit them.

Our team consists of a newly-liberated hulk of a man, who just got done losing everything in a nasty divorce; an empty-nest afflicted married couple who party professionally; and myself...a broken man who is currently using alcohol as a major food group. Besides that, as Mike from our team so eloquently pointed out to a rival team...we have the financial wherewithal to bury them. "Sure you don't need to call home for some more money?" he says to our student rivals as we kill another pitcher.

Credit limits and availible time will alone decide this contest.

Hawkings Paradox

2006-10-23T07:49:00.000-05:00

In 1989 I sat down and put my thoughts about a unified theory of Quantum Mechanics and Newtonian Physics on paper in an attempt to spell out a theory I was formulating based on black holes. The paper contained not one equation because I don't know dick about the mathematics of proofs. I just knew I had a hunch...and was trying with the English language rather than the language of math to explain how it might work. When it was finished, I had another Old Milwaukee, put the paper in the cabinet, and gloated to myself how a business student from Wisconsin had furthered the explanation of the Hawking Paradox, while Nobel prize winning physicists were stumped by it.

At that time I was completely fascinated by the work of Stephen Hawking. I still am, but the paradox has not exactly been at the forefront of my thoughts for the last 17 years, until last night.

On the science channel last night was a documentary titled...of all things..."The Hawking Paradox". It is a show about the "information problem" of his black hole work of 30 years. Basically, Hawking postulated that the "information" of matter IS, in fact, lost upon entering a black hole. This blasts the basic underpinning of all science that "information (matter)is never gained or lost...just redistributed. Detractors could never stomach this idea. I watched with keen interest as the roots of the problem were laid out. Opponents of Hawking's theory were granted ample airtime to relish the fact that Mr. Hawking was now apparently conceding defeat after 30 years. He had been wrong all along, but not for the reasons set forth by his detractors. This was new information, and the crux of the show, that Hawking had a new explanation to solve himself...that is...he had an answer for the paradox he himself had created. Matter is not lost after all, and he could prove it.

It gave me goosebumps to see that in those 17 years of time, Hawking himself had made progress TOWARDS MY THEORY! They (the theoretical physicists) still don't get it, are ignoring a basic constant, and are somewhat barking up the wrong universe in my opinion; but my basic ideas of what happens to this disappearing "information" are now being provided (albeit with the proper mathematical proofs I could never dream of creating) as the underpinnings of an answer to Hawking's Paradox. Someday, I will watch the news to learn that a brilliant young theoretical physicist has won the Nobel prize for codifying the REAL force...that of time...into the answer. Until then, the answer is staring them in the face and they can't see the forest for the trees. Forget the multiple-universe theory guys...it's not needed. Look to your recycling bin for the answer.

I KNOW so because I linguistically solved this problem in 1989 over a case of Old Milwaukee, and I was apparently on the right track if "the man" himself was working on similar lines of reasoning.

***Disclaimer***
I am in NO way implying that anyone stole my work or ideas. How could they? Only one other person ever read my paper, and he could not understand a word of it. I am simply pointing out the fact that my basic working model of the Paradox APPEARS to have been pointed in the right direction. Hawking and those working the problem are geniuses, I am not. Hawking et al have been trained and educated, I have not. I have no mathematical proof, nor the ability to provide such proof, and my conclusions are different than those provided by Hawking.

Guilty as charged

2006-10-20T08:23:00.000-05:00

I'll admit it: I took the ENTIRE day off yesterday and went pheasant hunting with John.
I needed the release of spending some time in the field, and we got two absolutely gorgeous ringnecks for our miles and miles of walking.

John's lab Chyna is the most wonderful flushing retriever I have ever had the privilege to work with. Yesterday, she made the best "blind" retrieve I have ever seen an upland dog perform, and we put up dozens of birds throughout the day.

While walking an earthen dam holding back a huge swamp in the middle of a CRP field, Chyna got "birdy", turned on a dime and flushed a ringneck rooster near the waters edge. I shot twice and the bird cartwheeled out of the air, but it hit the ground very much alive...and in the middle of the swamp.

Chyna had not seen the bird fall because of the tall cattails, and ran ahead about 60 yards. John looked at me and said "one of us getting VERY wet over this bird", and I agreed it should be me. John said he would try to direct Chyna first, but if it failed I would be swimming.

He went as far out as he could into the swamp, then called Chyna back and sent her out in front with a wave of his arm. The water was so deep she was swimming, not wading, when she got to the approximate spot we thought the bird was. She cast back and forth over the swampy crap for a minute, then took off splashing to her right. Moments later, she appeared swimming back to John with the live bird in her mouth...25 yards from where the bird had landed.

It was a thing of beauty watching that dog find and retrieve that bird. Blind retrieves are hard enough, but add in a moving bird and the watery conditions, and you will stump some of the best upland bird dogs out there. John was so proud of his dog he got a little choked up.

Rightfully so.

Interesting Gomer Facts

2006-10-18T14:44:00.000-05:00

Gomer's net worth in 1998: $1.5 million

Gomer's net worth in 2006: Somewhere in negative territory.

Gomer's estimated tax bill for ending the suffering: $60,000 and change.

Gomer's time to pay the tax bill: 1 Year

Gomer's Company tax payments to FUTA and SUTA over the years: Millions.

Gomer's eligible Unemployment compensation from those funds: $0.00

Gomer's theory on the whole sordid mess?: "As long as my mangled, bloody carcass remains, there will be someone there cracking bones for the marrow".

X-actly how long?

2006-10-18T14:21:00.000-05:00

Aaahhh! Here come those collections calls. No more fibbing, no more beating around the proverbial bush. Now I can say with complete and total honesty that nothing whatsoever will happen with your payment until December. Most people who have called are shocked by the brutal honesty. You tell someone right to their face you are planning to completely ignore their ass for two months, all they can do is pick up their jaw. Such honesty should be rewarded in business...but unfortunately it never is. At least they know where they stand! Save some money on the phone calls I tell them.

Truth is that until the public auction is over, I can't do anything about it. You gotta have a total on "X" before you can say how big a share of "X" is coming your way.

I have been swamped by the shitpickers: carrion feeders whose job it is to take wild stabs at purchasing your stuff for pennies on the dollar. Nice try guys. It's bad...but the building is not on fire. Some people would be tempted to take the easy sale at lower money just to be rid of the headache. Not me. Getting top dollar for my assets is my new career for the next two months, and I've got nothing better to do.

The surreal life

2006-10-13T15:21:00.000-05:00

You would think I would be quite insane at this...at the end of this tumultuous ride...but I'm really not. Things are for the most part calm and orderly. I have not yet breathed the huge sigh of relief I thought I might. It's somewhere in me, but there is enough crap and uncertainty remaining to keep it suppressed for a bit.

I'm an hour and a half away from unemployment. My operations manager is crying. The vermin have already started pilfering from me, so I have to guard my possessions like some apocalyptic Mad Max. It's surreal.

I'm going beyond thunderdome to have a beer. It's been one hell of a ride, drink up boys.

Here's to a 79 year old institution that some fucking 6 month employee thinks they can disassemble and take home pieces of in their pockets.

Cheers.

Sorry I have not been around

2006-10-12T13:49:00.000-05:00

What a fricken zoo this week has been. I'm sure you can imagine. The changeover is nearing completion, but there are still hundreds of problems to be solved.

I have not had any Internet or email for three days because some dipshit switched the wrong switch on Tuesday during a routine phone service call. My inbox has 786 messages, some of them critical, which I just regained access to. Woooboy! There are going to be some pissed off people!

I'll be here Monday, and for the near future wrapping things up. I can finally surf the porn sites on DSL because I "aint no mo a bidness". I can finally have a beer in my office and quit pretending I'm working. I can finally use the (much nicer) women's bathroom without worrying about leaving a lingering smell.

Just kidding.

I've always done these!

Requiem for a Business

2006-10-09T07:36:00.002-05:00

Today it is public so I can finally talk about it. My company will officially close this Friday the 13th. This has been a long and agonizing road that began last November, and it's a road I wished I could have a avoided, but all the detours I tried always led back to it. Now we are at it's end and the sign reads "Road Closed". It truly is an odd thing to plan one's own destruction. What has been my family's lifeblood since 1927 is now going to whither and die in a sure-to-be-painful "ordeal by attorney". Community shame, finacial ruin, and character assasination are but three of the things keeping company with the thoughts of my Grandfather rolling in his grave. He tought me much...I owed him more than I repayed in this role.

There are a lot of unhappy people today, not the least of which is myself and my family. It is unfortunate that all who will eventually think so lowly of me for uprooting their lives could not have been with me on the inside for the last 5 years. If they were, they would have seen all the things that were tried. They would have seen the emotional pain, the moral crevasses, and the routinue finacial torture I endured. I prolonged it for them, for their families and future. I tried for many years and many hundreds of thousands of personal dollars to salvage employment for 40 wonderful people; long after it was clear the writing on the wall foretold our demise. This cocktail of futility and responsibility has simply become more than one person can continue to bear, and what has continued beyond all reason and sound fiscal judgement, must now be abandoned altogether lest I be judged insane. It is too late, and I'm in too deep to make many positive steps for myself. Hopefully, those whose loyalty I counted for years will have better prospects. They deserve great things which I could not acheive for them. I wish them all good luck and happiness, and would want them to know I sacrificed everything I had to give it a chance.

So...it's off on my road to the future. Where that goes I have not a clue, but it's already socked in with a fog. There is very little money in drinking these days; even less in competitive fishing. The former I have developed a knack for, and the latter is but a boyhood pipe dream. Both are amongst the lowly few of my availible skills, though I've also gotten pretty damn good at owing money and being regularly ass-raped by insurance and oil companies. Those skills, however, don't ever seem to show up on a job qualification list.

While I appear bitter, I am really not. We all make our own beds in which we lie, I just had a couple of devious housemaids helping me with mine...and they were relentless. But instead of railing against that which could be proven culpable, I must blame myself. After all, the buck stops here, with me, and no amount of finger pointing will do a damn bit of good. The responsibility that will be placed at my feet by those who feel wronged is too complicated to explain. Better there be a single man at whom to thrust the spear of accusation rather than some distant chain of events. After all...it is I who will ultimately bear the legacy of the weapon's final stroke.

Henceforth when I sign on and post, it will be a different world and a different man. The whipping boy is dead...punished beyond recognition for events he could not control. In his place is a new man; born out of hope, and seeking a shovel that does not dig holes at twice his capacity to refill. I will NEVER be in this position again...ever. No man will rely on me for his livelihood, and no man will hold mine hostage. I'm through with unrequited favors, unacknowledged sacrifices, and ungrateful beneficiaries. I'm done with thieves, ill-informed neighsayers, and those whose ethics could not be found with an investigatory team. I'm tired of many, many things, but mostly I'm just tired of the fight. No...I take that back...I'm tired of losing the fight; but I battle no more for the war is lost. That, at least, provides some solace.

Weeeee R the champions, my friend.

2006-10-02T08:16:00.000-05:00

My team, team Kittle, won the 2006 Fall sporting clays league yesterday after an exciting shoot off in which I played no significant role. I really contributed to the overall team score for the season, but boy did I ever step on it during the team Vs. team shoot off to decide first place. Luckily, the rest of the team brought their "A" game, and we won the shoot off by 14 targets. We got a nice trophy and a lot of congratulations...and no little amount of bragging rights.

More important to me was my individual championship for Class "B" shooters, which I won in a 10 target shoot off to decide the championship. I got a huge plaque for that, but I never thought I would even be in the finals. There are some phenom shooters in Class B, any one of which deserved to win, but I had a "magical" round in the shoot off and took home the title. Cool beans considering our team captain John took home the Class "A" title, and another member of our team was in a shoot off for Class "C" which he unfortunately lost.

It was a great time.

ROFLMFAO!

2006-09-29T14:16:00.000-05:00

So this blind man walks into a lesbian bar, sits down, and orders a drink. Pretty soon he asks the bartender "hey, I know a great blonde joke, you wanna hear it?"

A husky female voice from his left says "Sir, I have four good reasons why you should not tell that joke. You might want to listen to them before you make a jerk outta yourself."

"Shoot" says the blind man.

"Well, number one is that the bartender is a 5'11" bodybuilder and ex-wrestling champion. She also happens to be a blonde. Reason #2 is that the woman at the end of the bar is a marine drill instructor who specializes in teaching hand to hand combat. She also carries a concealed pistol and knows how to use it...and she's a blonde. Reason #3 is that the woman sitting on your right is a national Karate champion and 5'8" of solid muscle. Her hands are registered with the police department as lethal weapons...and she's a blonde. Finally, I am a high powered CEO with a black belt who crushes little men like you every day in the business world, and I happen to be blonde."

"Now, do you REALLY want to tell that joke?"

"Nah" says the blind man. "I don't want to have to repeat it four times."

Grapes of Wrath

2006-09-28T08:31:00.000-05:00

Last night Jodi and I went out for a nice dinner at The Creamery. During the course of our dinner, I heard so much wrong information about wine I wanted to rise up, don a waiter coat, and hold a session right there and then.

Listening to an inexperienced waiter try to describe the difference between a Mourvedre and a Zinfandel made me cringe. Another table pretentiously demanded the WRONG style Riedel stemware to quaff their $25 Pinot...despite correction by the wait staff. Never mind the wine they ordered was $10 plonk available at any supermarket.

There is so much pretentious crap surrounding wine that people get lost in themselves. They overpay for bad restaurant wine thinking it must be good, and refuse to ante up when they could get a truly exceptional wine from a shop for a few bucks more. There are only a few basic things required to really enjoy wine, first and foremost is the desire to remain open minded and avoid the hype. The all time biggest mistakes I see people make with regard to drinking wine:

1. Drinking red wine that is too young.

2. Technique. Taking small, strained "babysips" when drinking. You need a decent mouthful for all the magic to happen, and 3/4 of an ounce is minimum.

3. Improper storage. You don't need a multi thousand dollar cellar like Jefe's to keep wine, but for God's sakes get it out of the sunlight and away from the heat register.

4. Drinking above your experience FOR THE WRONG REASON. Everyone deserves to have a taste of an '82 Cheval Blanc, but not everyone would appreciate what they are drinking, and it would lead some to severe disappointment. I often see people order by price...more money equals better wine right? Maybe...if the wine IS good, and your taste buds are experienced, you can probably justify the extra bucks. The average wine drinker would be better off ordering a solid, but lower priced wine, and enjoying it for what it is. Do this for a while, and you will see yourself gravitating to more complex wines...and having the experience database to really enjoy them.

5. Ignoring experience out of pride. An experienced waiter probably knows more about wine than you...it's part of his/her job. It is a virtual certainty that they know the specific wines in the restaurant cellar better than you, even if it is just memorized tasting notes. Use this information. If you are lost in a wine list, but really want a good bottle, ask for a recommendation. You may be surprised to find it is not the most expensive one on the list, and you wont look like an idiot just because you asked for help.
***NOTE***when contemplating a very expensive wine, it may be better to ask for the sommelier or the wine buyer. They are almost always overjoyed to be included.

6. Drinking white wine that is too cold. Right outta the fridge is too cold, let it warm for a while, and you will be shocked by the taste difference.

Ahh...The Shack-Part 2

2006-09-27T11:19:00.000-05:00

Don't you love it when you have to wait 7 days to see something? Sorry.

Anywhoo...about the shack, it was decided that a restoration was in order. The walls (what was left of them) were gutted of mice and newspaper insulation, a new roof was installed, and an ATV garage was added to one end of the structure. We poured cement after adjusting the dirt floor slope to resemble level, which resulted in a new floor that you are either walking up or down hill on depending which direction you are traveling. I guess our level was a little off. Scraps of paneling and old election signs makeup the wall coverings, and carpet remnants provide ample insulation for the mice nests.

Another piece of sage advice from Abner during the restoration: "Don't make it too nice or the women will want to come over."

His instructions were followed to a tee, as the completed job just barely...and I mean barely...qualifies for human habitation. At night you can still here the mice running around, the windows still leak frigid winter air. The wasps and Asian lady beetles have staked claim to the small upstairs attic, and only descend once the wood stove has stoked the room temperature. There is no running water, no means for a shower, and we have to haul all our consumable water up with us. It sleeps 6 in filthy comfort, and has hosted as many as 23 for a weekend. That one was REALLY interesting! The outhouse is aptly named the "Vikings Hall of Fame".

But our deer camp is not without the necessities. There are 5 gun racks, and Satellite TV for the football games. The dice are always hot, and the beer is always cold. You can always rummage some ammo from the lazy-boy chair, or eat a can of peaches from 1993. There is even a wall phone that is not hooked up, but manages to place a few calls every year when the drinking starts...mostly for pizza delivery. In short...it's heaven.

I would not think of being anywhere else in late November.

Aaahh...The "Shack"

2006-09-20T09:04:00.000-05:00

The previous post references the "shack", let me explain.

I find solitude in 120 Acres of Northern Wisconsin forest. The land is owned by my wife's family, but they don't live anywhere close and make use of it only 9 days a year...during the gun deer season. Since I live close, I have the enviable task of being caretaker in exchange for unlimited use of the land. It's my own private nature preserve.

When the land originally came up for sale, an insider deal was struck within 24 hours to purchase it. It never even made it to the market. An elderly woman in California owned the land, but had not set foot on it since the 50's, and apparently her former two room lodging on the land had not been maintained since that time either. On the first visit to the land after it changed hands, Jodi's grandfather Abner proclaimed a piece of the sage advice he was famous for:

Regarding the "Shack" on our new land: "Burn it" were his only words.

The shack was falling down, obscured by trees and weeds, had holes in the roof and mice (thousands of them) in the walls. The floor was dirt, and you could practically poke your fingers through the walls. In it's "pristine" state, it encompassed about 120 Sq feet...not one of which appeared remotely salvageable. Clearly, not one single person had touched this structure since the early 50's, and the ravages of 45 years in the Wisconsin outback and winter weather had taken a huge, huge toll.

Stay tuned for Part 2

Primitive Man

2006-09-20T08:43:00.000-05:00

I had pretty much sworn off bowhunting for this year because of my previous lack of interest and my schedule, but I am obviously reconsidering. Last night I spent the evening gathering all my gear, washing my clothes in scent-free soap, and tuning up the bow. I have plans to rework some stands at the shack this weekend; clearing shooting lanes and doing a little scouting work. For you diehard bowhunters out there...I know I am late. Normal prep work for me starts in July for the September opener, but I'm behind the eight ball this season. It's already open and I'm unprepared.

Apparently I am planning on hunting after all.

The smell and the sense of fall must have worked it's timeless spell on me yet again. I say it must have, because two weeks ago I really had no interest in investing all the time and effort into another 2 month archery season. Now I do...kind of.

Who knows if I will actually shoot this year, as I have passed on the killing part for about 5 years...it's a personal thing. But I so much enjoy the feeling of being in the woods, the spirit of the chase, and the world class chess match it requires to outsmart a whitetail buck, that I can't resist participating even if I don't take it to fruition by taking a shot.

The E files.

2006-09-18T08:35:00.000-05:00

Jodi and I had a wonderful dinner and evening with Tom & Jenny Saturday night. We always drink lots of wine and talk into the wee hours when we get together, and this night was no different. Somehow, and I don't know how, the conversation came around to aliens and UFOs. Jodi then encouraged me to tell my encounter story...which I did. Not only did I tell that one, I dug even deeper into my hidden world of strange experiences, and spilled bushels of beans about other strange theories I have.

Alcohol is a wonderful thing.

I am SURE that Tom and Jenny had a really good laugh after we left. Sort of in the vein of "can you BELIEVE what he just said"? I related some of my most whacked-out beliefs...most of which had never seen the light of conversation prior to this. Now I feel like a complete fruitloop.

Everyone has had experiences in their lives that border on the supernatural to them, but would seem idiotic to those to whom they are explained. In my opinion, those experiences stay with you, clear and vivid, for your entire life. They are yours and yours alone for fear of ridicule and the uncertain nature of their origin. It might be a ghost or "presence" experience, intense deja-vu, premonition, or apparition; it does not matter. What ever lives in your experience is intensely personal and difficult to convey to others. But most rarely tell others of them, and I can now say the remedy for that is 4 or 5 bottles of wine with dinner. Truth serum for the soul (and more entertaining than any game out there).

Looking fishy

2006-09-15T08:22:00.000-05:00

Yesterday morning I got up really early and went trouting on a local stream before work. When I arrived home, I had the following message on my answering machine:

"This is the Dunn County Sheriffs office trying to reach (me or my wife). One of our deputies observed a white Chevy Tahoe registered to (me & my wife) parked on County road K, just south of Hwy 12 at 7:07 this morning. The vehicle is fine where it is parked, but we are just curious what it was doing there. Please call us back and let us know. Thanks."

I can't really believe they bothered to call. My car was parked right next to the bridge crossing the creek, off on the shoulder, with fishing gear in the back. What did they think I was doing? They see trout fishermen parked similarly all the time.

So I called them back and told them I was trout fishing. I felt a little angry for having to account for my whereabouts and actions, especially since I was not breaking any laws, so I formulated the following explanation in my head...but decided at the last minute not to stir the pot:

"Hi, this is (my name) calling back about my vehicle being suspiciously parked on County Rd. K. What was I doing there? Well burying a body of course. Yeah, I drug that sucker upstream a good mile before I started to dig. I would have went somewhere more inconspicuous, but I was too drunk to drive...in fact, I think I may have hit a pedestrian on my way there. You may want to check the hospitals for the recently admitted. Oh and by the way, next time have your deputy stop and give me a hand. Dragging bodies upstream is a real chore."

I'm sure that would have got my point across. If I was doing something wrong, do you think I would just call them up and explain it to them?

Dead Ringer

2006-09-14T12:00:00.000-05:00

Disclaimer: I do not have a "thing" for this person. Jodi, if you're reading this, I post this purely as a harmless observation.

I have found myself watching movies starring Scarlett Johannsen with a little more interest than I give to other shows. There was always something weird about her; something that made me a little uncomfortable when I saw her films. I kept thinking I had met her or something, which is completely ridiculous, yet she always seems so...familiar to me.

This morning it finally dawned on me while I was watching her give an interview on TV:

She looks E X A C T L Y like a woman I dated in college years and years ago. How this resemblance escaped me for so long is completely baffling given that it is so obvious to me now. At least I have solved the "weird feeling", even though Jodi will probably never let me watch one of her movies again.

My oh my

2006-09-14T11:22:00.000-05:00

It's been a while since I've posted. I KNOW you all check in here every ten minutes to make sure you don't miss anything, so I'm sorry to have kept you waiting.

It's just that I've been so busy lately, I can't find time for anything. Time is short, so I will get right to the thought for the day:

Jodi asked me out of the blue yesterday "how much weight have you lost?", which was a complete surprise seeing as how I am not trying to lose weight, and don't think I have shed an ounce all summer.
"Really?" I counter, "do you think I am thinner?"

"Yes, you've definitely lost some weight" she compliments.

Now I am expecting the imminent arrival of the Fed-Ex or UPS truck with the delivery of something expensive that I had no idea we were getting. Commenting about my weight is so far above the normal "buttering up," that we are getting close to industrial strength lubrication.

We sucked

2006-09-11T08:37:00.000-05:00

Too cold, not enough sleep, too many beers, too many mistakes...all valid excuses.

Bottom line is that we stunk it up.

There is always next season.

Outlook

2006-09-08T12:09:00.000-05:00

Things are looking fair for this weekends tournaments. A massive cold front has just hit our area...that might throw the fish off for a while, but the weather looks good for humans. Fine with me, because my team is at it's best when the bite is tough. Most of the prep work is nearly complete, and my attitude is holding on the positive side.

Now all that is left is some medication to get me to sleep early tonight. 3:30 am comes all to soon, and if I can be counting sheep by 8PM, the day is much less fatiguing.

See you all next week!

Hear Ye Hear Ye

2006-09-08T09:41:00.000-05:00

Big announcement on the Rods page. Check it out!

What is it with me and dogs?

2006-09-08T07:45:00.000-05:00

Little Macy Mae has got some shoulder problems. It is now past the stage of just ignoring it and hoping it will get better...this is obviously something more serious.

Macy has had an intermittent limp in her left front leg for quite some time now. It never puts her down, but it's noticeable. Lately whenever she starts off on a walk, she pulls up lame after about 5 minutes. Worse than before, she really gimps when this happens.

A trip to the vet yesterday pretty much confirmed our diagnosis of Osteochondritis dessicans. How are we familiar with something so strange? Our chocolate lab had the same affliction for nearly her entire life. It's a condition affecting the ball joint of the shoulder, or more rarely, the elbow joint, which can produce debris in the joint area. New growth sometimes is deposited in the wrong area adding to the problem. Macy's X-rays were somewhat inconclusive, but do show a prominence where one should not be.

So, we now have to crate-rest and generally subdue the crazy little bitch in the hopes that she might heal without surgery. Surgery is indicated if this does not work, so then it would be back up to the U of M Vet hospital for a consult and the procedure. Trying to make a 1 year old Lab sit still for even 10 seconds requires considerable effort and training. This is going to be a chore, and we only have 4-6 weeks of it left.

The intolerable stench of time

2006-09-06T15:55:00.000-05:00

Well, another day is shot in a crappy week starting off a sure-to-be-shitty month. How's that for optimism?

I got a very small parcel of good news hidden in a dumptruck full of bad today. I guess that is about all I can hope for these days. I can't let you in on it, but I will tell you I smiled for about 16 seconds. Of late I have not been smiling at all, so that is an improvement.

C'mon Friday! I can't wait to see your beautiful end!

Then it is fishin, fun, and friends for two days until...alas, the locks are reset and the chains fastened again on Monday. God I hate this period of my life.

On the right track

2006-09-05T08:21:00.000-05:00

What a great Labor day weekend! I prefished 11 hours Saturday on Long lake and had a much better time of it. We found some better fish, learned a few interesting things, and restored some of the confidence needed to win this thing next Sunday. With a little touch of lady luck...who knows.

On Sunday, I can't remember what I did, but that means it was good. It was a lazy day for sure, and I am not sure I did a damn thing worth remembering. I was extremely tired from the day before...so I slept a lot. Jodi was not happy.

Monday morning I went trout fishing and caught some very nice fish. The freezer is empty of trout, so I set about trying to stock it up in the remaining 28 days of the Wisconsin trout season. It's nice to have some to get through a long Wisconsin winter. Monday was a good start, three beautiful brookies...including a 16 incher. The weather now is my idea of perfect; cool mornings and comfortable afternoons. I will enjoy every second of it until the snow buries the fall colors for good.

Busy week ahead...lots of problems coming. I will survive by planning and dreaming in anticipation of the upcoming full weekend of fishing. It is my only solace these days, and provides a carrot to urge me from one day to the next. It's always been my carrot as long as I can remember, but the sticks are getting longer as I age.

AAaargh

2006-09-01T07:33:00.000-05:00

I'm so hung over today. Last night was John and Lynn's 20th Anniversary, and we spent the night at Mona's in Eau Claire. I had way too many smashed potato martinis and bought too much good wine as I killed the rest of the tournament winnings.

There were 10 of us celebrating in the bar area seating, and I kept getting the "shhhsh" sign from two elderly women in a group of 10 next to us. I really did not think we were being all that loud, but I guess we were because the host had to warn us as well. When we were leaving, I was fairly drunk and went over to apologize to the wrinkles for our behaviour, but my wife apparently did not feel we owed them anything. She came rushing over explaining how we were celebrating her cancer survival of 20 years (not true) in an attempt, I guess, to make them feel bad for chastising us. She had been telling us for 20 minutes that she felt like doing this because they don't own the bar. I tried to tell her that we didn't either, but my wife and alcohol are long lost cousins with a reunion everytime they see each other.

A grey hair piped up right away and said "well we're celebrating the 10 year anniversary of the death of my husband". ZING! I guess she trumped Joddi. Touche'.

This morning my head feels like an empty 55 gallon steel drum...and somebody keeps hitting it with a pipe wrench.

For Donna X

2006-08-30T08:11:00.000-05:00

I have no blisters on my feet, only severely funky tan lines. There are things living in my belly button I have not talked to since 1987. There. I'm like a tree, baby...all branched out!

Seriously though...I'm going to try to make this place a little more interesting to the average, anonymous reader. Unfortunately, the most interesting and consuming thing in my life I can't even blog about right now. That is really lame, because that is what this process/thingamajiggy is kinda about. Those that REALLY are in the loop know that I could write books on some events I'm dealing with, and I just might some day.

All in good time #2. Good things come to those who wait.

(and some who use Match.com!)

It's all I got

2006-08-29T13:48:00.000-05:00

Sick of the fishing posts yet? Well, that's about all I have to post about lately, because there is so much of it going on. This coming Labor Day weekend, I am already booked two of the days for fishing. One day prefishing for the aggravating tournament on Long Lake on September 10th, and another half day trouting with John.

The weekend of the 9th I have the Long tournament on Sunday, but another one on Saturday at a different lake. That means another overnighter in Northern Wisconsin...and all the beer that we know accompanies that! We do those two every year, and it always proves to be one of the "roughest" weekends of the year on my ageing liver. Both Joddi and I have been refreshed by our win though, so we are taking these remaining contests with renewed dedication. Might have to lay off the UV Blue and lemonades a little bit to continue the winning streak.

There is not many more pure forms of torture than standing in a boat in the hot sun, for eight hours...hung over to beat hell.

Oh, and BTW

2006-08-28T09:48:00.000-05:00

The "Big Texan" never got a sniff all weekend, just as I predicted.

But at least I can say "I got 'em" if the need ever arises, and that is important to a tackle junkie like me.

Lady Luck

2006-08-28T07:38:00.000-05:00

Here's the tourney scoop. It will be a long post, but bear with me as I try to make it interesting.

This was a two day contest with a limited bracket system; you had to qualify on Saturday to fish for the big money Sunday. Those that do not qualify to go for the $5500, fished for their own purse as a "consolation bracket" on Sunday. It breaks down like this:

Day 1
75 boats fishing to secure a spot in the top 25 boats fishing on Sunday. Saturday's weights are zeroed for Sunday...fresh start for everyone.

Day 2
25 boats competing for $5500 top prize, and the bracket pays down 11 places. The remaining 50 boats fishing for $1000 top prize, but paying down only 4 spots . Also, the top 25 get an extra half hour and the bottom bracket gets shorted some time (this will play huge into the story).

In the interest of brevity...we SUCKED on Saturday. Our gameplan was the same as anyone who had a brain; fish some different stuff, and save your best spots for the big show on Sunday. Do just enough to qualify without burning spots up to do it. Well, a huge cold front blew through about 9:30 AM Saturday and absolutely shut the fish down. By 11 AM, we had only on fish in the livewell, and had fished two of our reserve spots to get it. Knowing how the prefishing had been, I estimated it would take 4 fish to make the cut, but the front had shut down the fish on our deep spots completely. But instead of changing gears and moving shallower...we died over the deep spots hoping to pull just three more fish.

It never happend. We weighed in just one fish and took up residence at boat #47 for the second day, smack dab in the middle of the consolation bracket. (Side note: Just how tough it really was is demonstrated by us finishing in the middle...with only one fish. I think there was nearly 20 zeros the first day!)

That night, all the talk was about the leaders catching them shallow. Our friends who made the cut gave us advice to move in. "Burning the bank" is the term, and we were told to do it early because everyone else was going to do the same thing. The deep bite was dead across the whole lake we learned, and I did not have any evidence to the contrary. So Sunday morning we took off at 7 AM and did just that...for nearly four hours...without a legal fish. In desperation, we moved at 11:15 to one of our best deep spots, which is a main lake dropoff from 5 to 16 feet with weeds on it and a fish crib nearby. Joddi caught a legal fish on the second cast, but that was it. We had not even gotten a bite there on Saturday. We then had a pow-wow where both of us quit fishing, sat down and regrouped. I told Joddi I thought the deep fish were recovering, that almost the entire field was now fishing dick shallow, and if we wanted to pull a rabbit out of the hat, we better get outta the box and get smarter...and do it fast. He suggested we go try a deep spot we had not fished in a couple of months. It's kind of a goofy spot in that there is not much there, but it is similar to the spot that just produced a legal, and more importantly, it's over looked.

As we pulled up, I shed the lifejacket and grabbed a rod in the same motion. I was casting before Joddi was even out of his seat. As he fiddled around, I got a strike and set the hook into something heavy. "Net!" I said, "this is a good one". Seconds later, a #4.20 largemouth was safely in the well. As Joddi unhooked a tangled rod from the net, I cast out and immediately was hit again. "Net!" I called. Joddi moved as fast a big man can to get that fish in the boat as well, a #3.15 bass. This happend five more times on five consecutive casts, but only two of the five were legals. Joddi never got a cast off during this. Unbelievable. We now had 5 fish, and our fortunes had completely changed in a little under 7 minutes, but then the frenzy died. We had caught the tail end of a major feeding spree, and that was very lucky, but it was not the end of our luck that day.

We fished the spot hard for the rest of the day. After all, we had until 2:30, the fish were there, and we had little else going. At about 5 minutes till 2PM, we noticed boats running down the lake towards the weigh-in location. I did not think anything about the first 6 or 7, but then more and more came by. "What time is our weigh in?" I say. "2:30...isn't it? Yeh, I'm sure the tournament director said we had 7.5 hours instead of 8 hours" he says. "I heard that too" I confirmed. Another minute goes by and I am thinking to myself "if 1st flight weighs at 3PM, and we weigh at 2:30, what time does 3rd flight weigh? 3 o'clock is the end of the contest, that would mean 3rd flight would have to weigh at 2PM to avoid over lapping. Okay, those are 3rd flight guys heading in" I say to myself and to Joddi out loud. Another minute goes by. Joddi says "Eric, that would mean that 3rd flight was shorted more time than us. They only get 7 hours? I never heard anything about that." "Yeh, I am thinking the same thing. You want to go in?" I half heartedly say. "Up to you" he says. Thinking it better safe than sorry, I made the call to head in. With increasing panic, we feverishly stowed the flyables, fired up, and screamed full throttle to the dock. As we approached, I see 2nd flight guys already weighing fish. I asked a passerby "what flight is weighing" and he replied it was flight #2. Holy shit! We crossed the line with my watch reading less than 30 seconds to spare...and we were being watched and timed until we were in bounds.
Not only that, but a minute before we were actually TEETERING on the edge of even coming in! Evidently, we were not alone in the confusion. Our friends, along with 3 other boats from 2nd flight, were disqualified when they showed up at 2:30. Despite protests by them, and denials by the director he had ever said we had 7.5 hours (he did..I heard him), they stuck by the published rule. It said 2 PM. They were out. End of story.

Longer story shorter, we won the consolation bracket and cashed a check for $1000. The second place team was four pounds behind us, and the DQs would not have made a difference either. Had we qualified for the top 25 and weighed in the same bag on Sunday, we would have placed 4th in that bracket...good for $1000. So it really did not matter. We were destined to win $1000 in this tournament. What matters is how much luck it took us to do it. Lucky we chose that spot and not another, lucky we decided to head in, lucky we were within sight of the boats to even see THEM headed in, and lucky we made the run with 30 seconds to spare.

I bought a lottery ticket on the way home, but my luck ran out then and there.

The biggie

2006-08-25T07:56:00.000-05:00

Important day today...so important I am leaving work to ensure the perfect implementation of it.

It's the "pre-tournament preparation day", and that involves more ritual than a voo-doo ceremony. First, I have to meticulously wash and clean the boat so that I don't have to worry about what it looks like alongside all the OTHER meticulously cleaned boats. Then I will begin respooling all my rods with fresh line, laying out and packing clothes, and getting food and ice together. Next, I will sort and place all of my "go to" baits for this tournament within easy access under my boat drivers seat, and do the same for Joddi's baits (the dread "big texan") under his. When all is done, I will gather all my maps of this lake and focus on them while running through our game plan step by step. I try to visualize the entire 8 hours, including backups and contingency planning.

The pre-tournament day ends when Joddi arrives to pick me up the morning of the tournamnt. If there isn't a half coffee - half double mocha cappacino waiting in the truck, it was all for nothing.

Oh and BTW, if I have an accident and dribble that drink down my front while sipping it, at least statistically, we will place better in the tournament. Thats a numbers fact...even if it is completely weird.