This is about as original an idea as Dr. Wayne Dyer meditating his way to hair growth while levitating above a gaggle of aging musicians singing their greatest hits a half-step off key, with the background painted by the skeletal remains of Bob Ross, all yours for your generous contribution of $250 to help continue the employment of Bill Moyers and that day-glow orange guy who gives the stock market numbers each night on public TV.
Savannah-Chatham Metro Police Chief Michael Berkow on the reason for his resignation:
What he said:
"I was approached about a new career opportunity in April, and I have thought about it and struggled with it and truly agonized over it,"
What he meant:
"Holy crap, it's about friggin' time. One more useless meeting with these jokers and I might have stuffed the city manager in a Bronco for some old-fashioned slow-motion chasin' down I-16."
Major Juliette Tolbert, commander of the metro police patrol unit; what she said:
"The community involvement is so much better, he decentralized the criminal investigations division - there are just so many things he has done."
What she meant:
"Ho boy, we're going to hell..."
Assistant Chief Willie Lovett, who was passed over for the job when Berkow was hired; what he said...
"His position will remain vacant until an appropriate replacement is found."
What he meant:
"You got another chance, mothers. Big Willie-time, baby, Big Willie Time!"
Alderman Van Johnson. What he said...
"I wish him the best in his future endeavors. Our department certainly has changed and grown since he's been here. I firmly believe that this community needs (more of) that in its next chief. We have the talent already to move this department forward."
What he meant...
"The future mayor got your back, Big Willie."
Brother Shabazz. What he said...
"Cracker. Pedophile!" Pedophile? "Yes, yes."
What he meant...
"Cracker. Pedophile!" Pedophile? "Yes, yes."
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
BBQ Pork Ribs and Pancakes!
God bless Alton Brown and one of the greatest TV series ever produced, "Feasting On Asphalt." This was from the second "Feasting", which took Alton and the crew up the Mississippi River. At Jim's Cafe in Greenville, Mississippi, Alton partook of what should be on some innovative BBQ restaurant's menu 15 minutes ago.
It's simple, too. Just parboil some country-style pork ribs for 40 minutes in some well seasoned water. Well-seasoned means using some beef base, salt, pepper, and the Trinity (no, not that one, the other one. No, not this one either...
the OTHER Trinity.)
Roast the ribs for 45 minutes in a 350 oven in a pan with a cup of the liquid from the boil mixture. Remove the ribs, coat in BBQ sauce, return to oven for 15 minutes, and serve over pancakes.
Guys, if you need Cialis after reading that, see the doc!
Thursday, June 18, 2009
The Blue Box Rocks
Many of us are fortunate in that, as we become aged like fine wine, though some of us age like musty Boone's Farm, we get to experience a wide array of food and drink, expanding the range of our palates, exposing us to new ways of dining and thinking, and making us seem more refined than reality might reflect. When we grow up, we are supposed to leave behind childish things, unless of course we want to be an actor, a professional athlete, or a politician. That means we are supposed to avoid some things we loved as children because we aren't kids anymore, but doggone it that just doesn't work. This is especially true when mac-n-cheese is within your adult grasp.
To most grown-ups and those pretending to be, the above picture is macaroni and cheese, or as the normal, abnormal, and everyone in between should refer to it, "mac-n-cheese". The thought of boiling a half-pound of macaroni to al dente (Italian for how you caress someone during the initiation of, um, well, dang, where's the Barry White CD?), preparing a mixture of melted butter, flour, ground mustard, finely diced onion, a bay leaf, paprika, a tempered egg (one that might have produced Foghorn Leghorn), mix in almost a pound of shredded cheddar, grueyere, or whatever cheese you like, pour it into a casserole, top it with more cheese and a crust mixture of butter and panko bread crumbs, baked at 350, well it does a couple things to me. One, it produces the worst run-on sentence this side of Ulysses. Secondly, I need to clean up after myself, as there is more saliva below me right now than has been sucked out of a month's worth of Dr. Brad Durham D.D.S.'s patients.
However, earlier today, I was reminded of a pair of things I learned when I was six-years-old. The first is that Wiffle Ball is the greatest game ever invented. It's 174 degrees in the shade today, which was the average temperature when us brilliant kiddies would plant the mustard seed of skin cancer and learn the proper techniques of cheating by playing 12 consecutive hours of Wiffle Ball in one-day tournaments that seemed to take place every week. What, you didn't cheat at Wiffle Ball? You didn't really PLAY true Wiffle Ball unless you threw illegal pitches, soaked the runner (hurled the ball as hard as you could at your opponent's cajones) and wrapped enough duct tape around the end of you bat to where, if the L.A.P.D. got hold of it, Rodney King wouldn't have survived to see if we could all get along.
The other can of Endust spray on the memory reminded me that one of the five greatest foods ever invented is this;
Yes, comparing the flavor of the blue box to the "adult" mac-n-cheese (my personal recipe, by the way, with a little help from The Phenom, Alton Brown) reminds of Bobby "The Brain" Heenan's comparison of his man Ric Flair to Hulk "The Roidster" Hogan; "It's like comparing ice cream to horse manure." Yet in a smackdown, Texas bullrope match between the two, I'd take the Kraftmeister at least half the time, because the powdery-cheesy goodness, augmented by copious amounts of butter and a touch of whole milk (before whole milk was outlawed by Congress, PETA, and Blue Cross/Blue Shield) was the closest thing a six-year-old boy could get to a Beavis and Butthead "boioioiinnng" moment.
So I say be a good kid and enjoy the blue box every now and then. Also, do me a favor and help me find that woman who was on Good Morning America the other day who wants to outlaw all junk food so I can send her a 747 filled with boxes of Kraft. You know the type; they go on TV and show their kids pretending to enjoy eating berries off trees, bails of hay and bamboo sticks, approximately 17 years before those kids turn into jihadists or eco-terrorists. While I'm at it, I wonder if anyone stashed away some boxes of Oreos before they got rid of the trans-fat and killed the flavor? A little trans-fat is worth it.....if it saves the children!
To most grown-ups and those pretending to be, the above picture is macaroni and cheese, or as the normal, abnormal, and everyone in between should refer to it, "mac-n-cheese". The thought of boiling a half-pound of macaroni to al dente (Italian for how you caress someone during the initiation of, um, well, dang, where's the Barry White CD?), preparing a mixture of melted butter, flour, ground mustard, finely diced onion, a bay leaf, paprika, a tempered egg (one that might have produced Foghorn Leghorn), mix in almost a pound of shredded cheddar, grueyere, or whatever cheese you like, pour it into a casserole, top it with more cheese and a crust mixture of butter and panko bread crumbs, baked at 350, well it does a couple things to me. One, it produces the worst run-on sentence this side of Ulysses. Secondly, I need to clean up after myself, as there is more saliva below me right now than has been sucked out of a month's worth of Dr. Brad Durham D.D.S.'s patients.
However, earlier today, I was reminded of a pair of things I learned when I was six-years-old. The first is that Wiffle Ball is the greatest game ever invented. It's 174 degrees in the shade today, which was the average temperature when us brilliant kiddies would plant the mustard seed of skin cancer and learn the proper techniques of cheating by playing 12 consecutive hours of Wiffle Ball in one-day tournaments that seemed to take place every week. What, you didn't cheat at Wiffle Ball? You didn't really PLAY true Wiffle Ball unless you threw illegal pitches, soaked the runner (hurled the ball as hard as you could at your opponent's cajones) and wrapped enough duct tape around the end of you bat to where, if the L.A.P.D. got hold of it, Rodney King wouldn't have survived to see if we could all get along.
The other can of Endust spray on the memory reminded me that one of the five greatest foods ever invented is this;
Yes, comparing the flavor of the blue box to the "adult" mac-n-cheese (my personal recipe, by the way, with a little help from The Phenom, Alton Brown) reminds of Bobby "The Brain" Heenan's comparison of his man Ric Flair to Hulk "The Roidster" Hogan; "It's like comparing ice cream to horse manure." Yet in a smackdown, Texas bullrope match between the two, I'd take the Kraftmeister at least half the time, because the powdery-cheesy goodness, augmented by copious amounts of butter and a touch of whole milk (before whole milk was outlawed by Congress, PETA, and Blue Cross/Blue Shield) was the closest thing a six-year-old boy could get to a Beavis and Butthead "boioioiinnng" moment.
So I say be a good kid and enjoy the blue box every now and then. Also, do me a favor and help me find that woman who was on Good Morning America the other day who wants to outlaw all junk food so I can send her a 747 filled with boxes of Kraft. You know the type; they go on TV and show their kids pretending to enjoy eating berries off trees, bails of hay and bamboo sticks, approximately 17 years before those kids turn into jihadists or eco-terrorists. While I'm at it, I wonder if anyone stashed away some boxes of Oreos before they got rid of the trans-fat and killed the flavor? A little trans-fat is worth it.....if it saves the children!
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
I hate trying to figure out what to write
So the solution is random crap, I suppose;
Stimulus money to save Savannah-Chatham teaching jobs
They forgot to include in the headline "for ONE YEAR ONLY."
Suspension Shocks Patrick
Ex-Jenkins star and current Cards tight end Ben Patrick tests positive for Adderall and is suspended four games next NFL season. He says he only took one pill from a friend to stay away while driving late at night. I have met Ben and believe him, but many folks won't, assuming that "one pill from a friend" is akin to "I did not have sex with that woman", Jude Law saying "I do", and Tom Cruise coming out of the closet to let us know that Prozac is a-okay.
FDA says Zicam nasal spray can cause loss of smell
Well, there goes my grand idea to become a billionaire building subdivisions near paper mills and powering them with cow patties.
Cats: Not as clever as we think
Wait a minute. I could have sworn that eating EVERYTHING off the floor, including their own hairballs, then licking the bathtub dry or drinking from the toilet instead of the water bowl was part of the Mensa exam! And taking a crap in FRONT of the litter box rather than in it, then having litter mate sister cat immediately take a crap on the floor on the opposite side of the house was some sort of feline feng shui, or Poop Shui. Say it ain't so, scientists!
Stimulus money to save Savannah-Chatham teaching jobs
They forgot to include in the headline "for ONE YEAR ONLY."
Suspension Shocks Patrick
Ex-Jenkins star and current Cards tight end Ben Patrick tests positive for Adderall and is suspended four games next NFL season. He says he only took one pill from a friend to stay away while driving late at night. I have met Ben and believe him, but many folks won't, assuming that "one pill from a friend" is akin to "I did not have sex with that woman", Jude Law saying "I do", and Tom Cruise coming out of the closet to let us know that Prozac is a-okay.
FDA says Zicam nasal spray can cause loss of smell
Well, there goes my grand idea to become a billionaire building subdivisions near paper mills and powering them with cow patties.
Cats: Not as clever as we think
Wait a minute. I could have sworn that eating EVERYTHING off the floor, including their own hairballs, then licking the bathtub dry or drinking from the toilet instead of the water bowl was part of the Mensa exam! And taking a crap in FRONT of the litter box rather than in it, then having litter mate sister cat immediately take a crap on the floor on the opposite side of the house was some sort of feline feng shui, or Poop Shui. Say it ain't so, scientists!
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Why is baseball the greatest game?
Because other sports couldn't have lists as fun as this one...
11 Major League Baseball Feats That Have Only Happened Once
For the unripened born prior the 70's, you must be crushed to know that you missed the era of porn-staches, sideburns, and...well...
Aw yeah, baby! Lord, please don't let 70's facial hair make a comeback. If a nuke hit South Carolina, Jon (from Jon and Kate) and the "Octomom" could repopulate the state faster than I could grow a 'stache.
11 Major League Baseball Feats That Have Only Happened Once
For the unripened born prior the 70's, you must be crushed to know that you missed the era of porn-staches, sideburns, and...well...
Aw yeah, baby! Lord, please don't let 70's facial hair make a comeback. If a nuke hit South Carolina, Jon (from Jon and Kate) and the "Octomom" could repopulate the state faster than I could grow a 'stache.
Gimme Back My Tim Horton's!!!
A federal bankruptcy judge says the Phoenix Coyotes of the National Hockey League are staying in Phoenix, at least for now, blocking one of the smartest ideas the league has seen in a long time; moving a team that plays on ice from the city with 127 degree "dry" heat back to Canada. The current Coyotes owner, who has already filed Chapter 11, wants to sell the team to Frostback Jim Balsille. Balsille wants to move the team to Hamilton, Ontario, which averages 63.7 inches...errr, sorry, 161.8 centimetres of snow each year. But the NHL doesn't want that, which makes about as much sense as Herman Talmadge coming back from the dead and running to represent Cuyler-Brownsville on the city council. The Associated Press reports:
"The Coyotes have lost more than $300 million since the franchise moved from Winnipeg, Manitoba, in 1996, and at least $36 million each of the last three seasons, but the NHL contends the franchise can be viable with better management and more success on the ice."
So, to review, the Wise Old NHL helped rip the team away from Winnipeg, where they lost money, though I doubt it was even close to 300 mil. The league, sensing the cri de coeur for hockey from the plastic surgically repaired population of Phoenix, sent the team there. The team goes bankrupt, but it's okay; they just need new "managers." Come on. Putting Donald Trump in charge and replacing the Coyotes with the Nekkid Coyote Cheerleader Skaters wouldn't make money in a place where everyone is obsessed with one of three things, golf, eating bamboo leaves and pea shoots at spas (or maybe that's bamboo shoots and pea leaves), and throwing guys through windows of bars. Oh wait, Charles Barkley doesn't live in Phoenix anymore, so they're obsessed with one of two things.
Send the Coyotes to Canada, which is hockey crazy, has non-fabricated ice, and WANTS more teams. I love hockey and think the players are tougher than football players and most other professional athletes, but the Sand Gnats' Jeurys Familia will pitch an entire game without adjusting himself once before the U.S.A. embraces the puck.
"The Coyotes have lost more than $300 million since the franchise moved from Winnipeg, Manitoba, in 1996, and at least $36 million each of the last three seasons, but the NHL contends the franchise can be viable with better management and more success on the ice."
So, to review, the Wise Old NHL helped rip the team away from Winnipeg, where they lost money, though I doubt it was even close to 300 mil. The league, sensing the cri de coeur for hockey from the plastic surgically repaired population of Phoenix, sent the team there. The team goes bankrupt, but it's okay; they just need new "managers." Come on. Putting Donald Trump in charge and replacing the Coyotes with the Nekkid Coyote Cheerleader Skaters wouldn't make money in a place where everyone is obsessed with one of three things, golf, eating bamboo leaves and pea shoots at spas (or maybe that's bamboo shoots and pea leaves), and throwing guys through windows of bars. Oh wait, Charles Barkley doesn't live in Phoenix anymore, so they're obsessed with one of two things.
Send the Coyotes to Canada, which is hockey crazy, has non-fabricated ice, and WANTS more teams. I love hockey and think the players are tougher than football players and most other professional athletes, but the Sand Gnats' Jeurys Familia will pitch an entire game without adjusting himself once before the U.S.A. embraces the puck.
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