Gobble, Gobble, Gobble. . .

That's what most of us will be doing this weekend. Gobbling ourselves into a tryptophan stupor whilst we swill beer and curse at our college football team as they play their archrivals over the holidays. Life doesn't get much better, does it? Maybe throw a little Jagermeister in there for good measure.

I don't really have much to say this morning. I, like many others, will be traveling today. Luckily, I live in a virtually uninhabited state and the airport will be a breeze. If I'm wrong, top secret plan B will go into effect, which means bellying up to the bar into the airport and getting bombed. Can you say "getting bombed" in an airport these days without causing mass mayhem? Hell, can you even say anything without causing some sort of disruption somewhere or offending someones "sensibilities"?

We will be preparing T-day dinner for 10 to 15 people at Beatrice's home. Nothing out of the ordinary. Standard fare, got kids to satisfy, you know? No torchon of foie gras with sauterne gelee, nor will we have duck confit with beets chips and thyme gremolata. There will be no sauteed roe of dover sole with buerre noir and naturally, we will not prepare sweetbreads a al Mont Vert. A travesty beyond comprehension.

We will have turkey and stuffing. We will have corn. And potatoes. Maybe some beets. And the ubiquitous, omnipresent and omnipotent green bean casserole. Yeah!!

Alas, it's not about the food anyway. It's about the togetherness, the family, the camaraderie, the closeness that defines great relationships, whether between lovers, friends or family members. It's all there for the taking, the sharing, for the enjoyment of all and it should be relished because life is a finite resource not to be squandered.

At least up until the point when Uncle Jim Bill gets drunk on hootch, shares all of his Navy stories with your youngest daughter, including the Tijuana donkey show he saw while stationed in San Diego during Vietnam, spanks your wife on the ass at every chance, calls your brother-in-law a sissy for wearing a pink button-down at the dinner table, then slaps his own son in the head with a turkey leg which culminates the gathering with a trip to the emergency room and also to Lickety-Split's Bail Bonds.

Ah, family. Gotta love 'em.

Or you can kill 'em.

Oops, can't say that either!

Happy Thanksgiving y'all!

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Never Forget. . .

Today is Veteran's Day and for those of you who don't know what it means, here is a word for word email from my friend Brian (Brain from Ubon's) about Veteran's Day:

I do not have a forum for this like you do. I have never told you this, but my family has a longstanding tradition of military service. If you don’t mind, I would like you to honor them on this most special of days.

My Uncle Bill Webb – US Army – served in Desert Storm I.

My Brother Mark Campbell – US Army – served in Desert Storm I.

My Cousin Dallas Allbritton – US Army – he has not been to a “real” war, but he is just a couple of years short of having his 20 years in with the National Guard.

My Cousin Scott Smira – US Air Force – he just got back from Kosovo, but he spent 1 ½ years in various countries.

My Cousin Kevin Smira – US Army – Somolia.

Our Friend Scott Welch – US Air Force – who is serving in the present Iraqi war

And finally, my Great Uncle Captain Harry White – US Army – World War II.

Let me tell you a story about Captain Harry White. He was my grandmother’s only brother, and he is the reason that I have the place to live on that I do. My great grandfather Percy White bought the land that we now know as the River Place because he wanted a farm for his son to raise registered shorthorn cattle on. The barn that is still standing on that place was built in 1937 by my great grandfather and Harry. It is made out of oak boards that were transported from the back of the property by oxen.

When World War II broke out, Harry White joined the Army. Harry White had a college education and a job. He was also an only son, so he could have avoided the draft if he wanted to. He didn’t care, he joined the Army to fight for his country. He was sent to the Phillippines. From December 8 – 10, Japanese forces took over airfields in the Phillippines. To make a long story short, on March 22, 1942, Douglas MacArthur was flown to Australia . He then wired the people of the Phillippines that “he shall return”. Sadly, he was wrong. On April 9, 1942, General King surrendered US and Phillippine troops to the Japanese, against MacArthur’s orders.

My Great Uncle, Captain Harry White, was in the middle of all this. He marched in the Bataan Death March. Emaciated, sick, starving. On October 7, 1942, Captain Harry White died for his country in a Japanese prison camp. A POW. We do not know the details. We do have a small journal that was returned to us. You can tell by the writing as the days go by that he was getting weaker and weaker. Captain Harry White is buried at the Manila American Cemetary in the Phillippines. Please remember him and all that are like him. A great American who died for us. Never had a wife, never had a kid, never really ever had a house that he could call his own.

Unselfishly. Went. And died. For us.

POW’s, MIA’s, Veterans……………….

Never forget….

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Somone's Reality. . .

You know, I've never claimed that this is a family-oriented blog, nor some place where you will find wildly mind-blowing posts about politics and world events.

In fact, this place is exactly like I like it. Random, disorganized, vulgar, infuriating, narrow-minded, but you know, it's my place and my reality. Don't like my rants and screeds and whatevers, well great! That's what makes America awesome. We have the freedom of choice and there are a lot of choices on the internet.

As you can see, I've touched on three themes in two brief statements: freedom of choice, personal reality and family.

Now consider those for a minute. . .


. . .and then consider the images below.



Makes my reality seem kinda normal.

Thanks Beatrice for the contribution and for making me smile.

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I Know.

I know!


I KNOW!!

HERE'S SOMETHING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Beauty and the Beast!





You decide.

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Sorry Folks. . .

One second thought, screw you!!

Seriously, I apologize for not blogging much lately, but I've been very busy with the workie-workie including staying up 36 hours straight from Friday morning until Saturday afternoon. I'm sure some are asking why and the answer is "doodie" calls.

We had an 1100 cubic yard concrete placement that began at midnight Friday night/Saturday morning complicated by the fact that we have too many people on vacation for the holiday weekend and everyone else was too busy tripping over their own bottom lips in self-pity to volunteer and frankly, when it's your name on the building, you simply have to step up and bite a bitter bullet from time to time.

I drank more speed drinks yesterday (i.e., Monster, Sobe, Amp, etc.) or like I call them, "cocaine in a bottle", than I have in my entire life. By the time the work was over and I was attempting to eat my "scattered, covered and smothered" in a busy Waffle House, I was twitching and jumping and starting at every clang, barked order and yelled greeting in the joint. Only you Waffle House eaters will understand.

Anyway, made it through that and finally found a nice, unbusy bar to drink a few Heineken's inside the Hard Rock casino at 9:30 in the morning. There, I met a really nice bartendress, who comes from 5 generations of Yugoslavians down in Gulfport. She's a "Vich" of some sort and naturally has heard ALL of the jokes that variants of her last name can be applied to. I tried.

Well, I just slept 12 hours and woke up with vicious cramps in both calf muscles, which has me pondering about all those minerals and vitamins in the aforementioned drinks. I guess I drank too much guarana root or something.

I'll be getting to some blogging later, but first I have to straighten up the house for the imminent arrival of my sister and her hurricane, er, family.

Talk to you soon.

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