I always rejoice when a fellow blogger actually publishes something somewhere other than on a blog. The latest cause for celebration is our pal Carl Brannen who got one of his manuscripts accepted for publication.

I have read and thoroughly enjoyed Elisson’s book of 100-word stories and Velociman’s book about a boy’s adventure-filled journey through the underbelly of the South, but, as one who views gravity as the magical force that causes apples to fall from a tree onto one’s cruller (as opposed to sailing off into space), I have a bit of difficulty understanding Carl’s published work. Carl thinks in a space that is both foreign and completely amazing to me. It is nice to know that there are people out there who can and do think about these things.

Kudos to the Carlster.

I guess the proper title should be “Things About Which I Suppose I Could Write,” but gimme a break. (Yeah, I know. Winston Churchill … “… a thing up with I will not put.”)

1. I could go on and on about David Letterman: Naah. I don’t watch his show; I don’t think he’s funny, and I don’t really give a shit who he has sex with [with whom he has sex]. The preposition thing is kicking my ass tonight.

2. I could pose the interesting question: who is the bigger asswipe — Jeanane Garafolo or Rachel Maddow? Naah, too difficult to choose. Sort of like being up to your neck in shit and someone throws a bag of snot at your head. Waddya do?

3. I could give you a blow by blow description of the sneezing fit I’m having that the moment. Naah. Boring. I am, however, properly sneezing into the portion of my arm opposite my elbow. I’m nothing if not a proper sneezer.

4. I could describe how my bottle of Mint Sweet Tea Vodka fell out of the freezer, breaking the cap and spilling half its contents on the floor. Naah. Too much of a downer; I damned near wept. Licking the floor would have been unseemly.

5. I could do a movie review. Naah. I can’t remember the last time I watched a movie.

6. I could do a scintillating piece about the exceptions to the hearsay rule codified in the Federal Rules of Evidence. Naah. That would be even more boring than the details of my sneezing fit.

7. I could confess that I always have to look up the spelling of “manual” to satisfy myself that it is not spelled “manuel.” Naah. No one cares about my chronic brain farts.

8. I could write about talking canned vegetables. Naah. The last time I was in the supermarket, the bastards wouldn’t speak to me.

9. I could write about having to take a number to wait for my turn to kick Bill Maher’s ass. Naah. The number 57,870 is boring.

10. I could skip number 10, thereby sparing you any more of this nonsense. Yep. That I can do.

I suspect that you are all sitting on the edges of your chairs awaiting my report on the Firefly Mint Sweet Tea Vodka tasting. Well, Pilgrim, your wait has ended.

It was excellent. It was the perfect balance between tea and mint. I say that as a guy who doesn’t like minty ice cream or chocolate and mint together in candy, or otherwise.

As I was sipping it, I remember the Joanster commenting about the very proper elderly Southern ladies buying the stuff two bottles at a time for their little gatherings and her warning them that the stuff will kick their proper Southern asses if they aren’t careful. Excellent advice, that, for the beverage is so good that one could easily overshoot the mark before the realization kicks in that it ain’t tea, but rather is ass-kicking vodka that just happens to taste like tea.

Firefly Mint Sweet Tea Vodka is definitely a keeper.

Note: The Nanny State Federal Trade Commission has recently decided that Bloggers doing product reviews must disclose any payments or freebies received from the manufacturer of the product reviewed. In keeping with the new regulation, I hereby warrant and represent that I purchased the bottle of booze in question with my own money and that I have not received any payments in cash or in kind, or any consideration whatsoever for telling you that I tasted the stuff and liked it. Of course, if the Firefly Peeps would like to send me a couple cases of the stuff, I’d be happy to let you know that.

Off to spend the day with some old, old friends. A few cocktails, dinner and maybe even a bit of guitar pickin’.

Maybe later, Peeps.

I made what has become a regular visit to Sippican Cottage and was delighted to find an old school video of Jimmy Vaughan, Kim Wilson and the Fabulous Thunderbirds playing the hell out of a classic twelve-bar blues rocker. That put me in the mood to hear the Late, Great Stevie Ray and Brother Jimmy play together, and I came upon the video below. It is the Brothers Vaughan kickin’ ass and takin’ names playing at the same time on a double necked guitar.

Farookin’ great stuff.

Today, I went to my favorite Mondo Wine and Liquor Emporium and spent a shitload of money on a shitload of wine and a bit of liquor, including more Firefly Sweet Tea Vodka (Be sure to check out the excellent website. Turn your speakers up!). In addition to the Lemon and Peach flavors, this time I figured I give the Mint a try (over clear ice, of course). I figure that a pilgrimage to the Firefly Distillery is in my future.

I’m doing my bit for the ailing economy.

That is all.

Here are some excuses we might expect to hear for the reason Chicago didn’t make the initial cut by the International Olympic Committee.

1. “We had a really awesome presentation prepared, but the dog ate it.”

2. “We couldn’t promise a flak jacket to each athlete.”

3. “The IOC didn’t like our demand that the no medals be awarded to winners of Olympic events, because awarding medals only to winners is not fair for everyone else who competed.”

4. “Oprah gained sixty pounds during the flight to Copenhagen, and the male members of the IOC expected her to look hot.”

5. “The President demanded to give a speech at the opening ceremonies, at the closing ceremonies and after each event.”

6. “We demanded that the teams from Norway, Sweden and Denmark each include a specified number of black athletes.”

7. “We required that ACORN employees serve as judges for all events.”

8. “President Obama demanded to ‘throw out the first javelin’.”

9. “We required that all athletes wear the Obama logo at all times.”

10. “Michelle Obama passed some serious noxious gas during her presentation. Hey, it happens.”

Today was one of those days when reading the news damned near had my eyeballs ready to explode. I feel that I’m approaching critical mass with the dumbshittery of the administration. And, don’t get me started with the state government. The worst part is that the anger spills into every farookin’ thing, to the point where I get to thinking that everything sucks.

So, I decided to spend ten seconds or so to force myself to think of a thing that doesn’t suck. There are, of course, many easy things to pick from, such as health, family, friends and stuff like that. Rather I wanted to quickly (ten seconds worth) think of an unsung Good Thing.

It came to me.

V8 vegetable juice.

It’s tasty, it has zero fat, it’s low in calories, and it is the only thing to use when making a gorilla stompin’ bloody mary.

Of course, there are some who would piss on my parade by asking, “Is V8 juice really healthy?” They bray, “It has “tooooo much sodium” and the vegetables are “reconstituted.” (I can feel the smug all over me when whoever wrote that typed the word “reconstituted.” Yo, kiss my unreconstituted ass, Smugturd.

The fact is that the “low sodium” variety of V8 tastes like ass, and I’m not interested in any of that V8 “fusion” stuff either. I’m talking about the real, unscrewed-with V8 – an Unsung Good Thing.

That is all.

Do you know anything about the Twelfth Imam?

You damned well should.

Youse guys who stop by here and who don’t maintain a blog may not be aware of the constant battle we bloggers wage with comment spammers. Fortunately, blogging software catches most of the comment spam, but when the software can’t figure out whether a particular comment is real or spam, it relegates it to a “moderation queue,” which allows us to check it out and decide whether it will ever see the light of day.

Many of the spam comments are screamingly obvious in that they are from a domain in Russia, and/or they will contain three thousand words of gibberish and thirty links. Other spammers, thinking they are very clever, try to disguise their comments as the real item. The former are easy, and the latter often crack me up with their sheer douchebaggery.

Yesterday I got this comment to a very, very old post:

I can see the logic in your argument but I think you’ve painted your strokes

.
Yo, thanks, Asswipe, but the last time I checked my strokes remain unpainted.

Update: Just got another gem. This one was a comment to a post about Bacon Vodka.

Additional Detail – last time I had problems,it just turned power saver regime,and it didnt shut down upon electricity dissapearal

“Electricity dissapearal” Hilarious.