Captain's Log. Stardate: Fourteen dot seven two dot loser

OK, Kirk, here's what I've found so far today. Humans are indeed illogical. And tasty. -- Count Spockula, SD 14.72.10537

Dental procedures and utensils are, I'm sure, designed to help you. No doubt todays tools are a lot better than the "Here, bite this stick" days of the past. I still find them predominately undignified. The rubber dam tops my list. Makes your lips and chin all slimey and keeps you from swallowing properly, so there's always a tiny pool of spit trying to roll down your throat, keeping you constantly sort of half gasping and gurgling like fish on a river bank. Uggh...that's the worst. Then you kinda try to swallow it but your mouth is forced wide open and all you do is send another little geyser of spit onto the dam, which allows it to seep back into your mouth and form an even larger tiny pool of spit that you can't swallow. Time all but stands still with a rubber dam on.

September 2004 National Geographic, pg.96. An interesting article on the honey badger called BADGERS WITH ATTITUDE. Entertaining. Read it. Go on, read it. I command you! Read the darn thing. (I'm badgering you.)

I am really not sure if it is the curry rice or the baked ziti. I have eaten quite a bit of both over the long weekend, so it could be either. Or possibly it could be the ginger ale, since I also consumed a lot of that this weekend, and it is not a normal item in my diet. All I know is that the flatuance is real.

I have one of the quickest wits I know. Not Robin Williams quick, but still pretty quick. I don't know, things to say just pop into my head with lightning speed. Also, I have been to the dentist a LOT in the last two weeks. So much that I have been joking about putting it down as a skill on my resume. Here is a true verbal exchange from an hour ago:

T'E: Well, I'm off to my second job. I'm a professional dental patient. HaHa.
DA: HaHaHa. So, is the job hard? HaHa
T'E: No, it's like your mom's job. You just kinda lay there. (Zing....sssttttt. Burn.)

An average used car here costs between $500-$2,500. Heck, there's a '96 Cadillac STS that looks showroom new for $7,900. A Nissan March is like a VW Beetle (the old ones) except only half as large and not as well built. You buy a used one of them for between $200-$500 easily. So I was kinda put out over the cheapness I saw on the main road through the base today. A beat to death Nissan March with the front end duct taped back on. I mean, fool PLEASE! A whole new (used) car costs less than taking the wife and kid to a B-list concert in Tokyo. We're all little ambassadors fer crying out loud. Your ambassadorship seems to be saying, "I can't stop to fix the car. I gotta get home, the wife's got a possum treed and them are some go-o-o-od eatin'." (Reminds me of the joke: He said to me "I'd like you to meet my wife and sister.", but there was only one girl standing there.)

All above newswire reports are true. Except the Spockula quote. I made that up.

Farceur, out
Travelin' Ed

I wanna be on Oprah

It's so true. I want it same as my one and only true hero, David Letterman. He wants on the show too, although I fear that if he ever does get on he may propose marriage. Call it a hunch.

Besides, I don't want to be a guest on the show. How boring would that be?

OW: So Travelin' Ed, you've lived your life in ignorance, not even as a blip on life's little radar screen?
T'E: Whut? Whut do you mean??
OW: That no one really knows you exist.
T'E: Hell, Oprah, no one cares I exist. Da-huh, da-huh.
OW: True. Now go. I have fabulousness to exude.
T'E: OK. Thanks Oprah.
OW: SECURITY !!

What I want is to be in the audience. Man she gives away cars (with free tax liabilities to boot), books, truffles, anything she's talking about. If she talks about it, everybody in the audience will get one.

Yesterday (well, it was yesterday here, I'm not sure if it was yesterday there. Well, it was yesterday there, I'm just not sure if it was the same one. Know what I mean?) was a perfect day to be an Oprah audience stooge, although any day is a good day really. She had celebrities on. Like Chris Rock and the Olsen Twins. And they would offer up opinions on the best foods and sandwiches and restaurants all over the country. And then Oprah would say, "...and everybody in the audience will get one of these sandwiches from the Art Cafe in San Luis Obispo. Waiters, bring out the food."

Think about it. You are in the presence of greatness (The Olsens), you get the low down on great hideaway food joints, and then Oprah feeds you. Can you say "died and gone to heaven".

Yeah, yeah. I am easily contented. You should try it sometime.

On the USS Bunker Hill I called FCC S "Buckwheat". FCC S called me "Punk". We were good friends. The rest of the chief's mess referred to us collectively as "Punkwheat". Who knew that they could be so creative. It is one of my fondest memories...of that day.

121 & WU.

Law of large numbers **, out
Travelin' Ed

** Wow. RaWo-Matic® spit out a whole sentence. Who'd have thought that?

Salamat Po

If you ever find yourself in the Philippines and not a hostage of the Abu Sayef, the phrase "Salamat Po" will probably come in handy. It simply means "thank you" in Tagalog. I'm not sure how to say "please don't kill me you godless heathens, my people will pay", but if you're headed over there you might want to find out. I know from experience that if you take a taxi in Manila the latter phrase still might come in handy. Taxi rides in Manila scare me. The whole place looks like the bad side of town. Sorry, but it's true.

Anyhoo, I digress. Here, read this:

Salamat Po
No more understanding than the furies of the storms
that have lashed me on the oceans
as you sleep inside the comfort of your quiet home.

You dreamed I came
That I blew in on the wind and crashed in with the waves.
And I called your name
But that ain't how a man like me behaves.

I have often traveled on the trade winds as they've blown
me on my course of least resistance.
And every morning woken up and called it home.

I can't deny
there is a part of me inside that never will return.
For I have died
as the soft, sweet angels taught me what I've learned.

And when I fly...
my wings they'll carry me
through the sky...
baby, ain't it sometimes so hard to believe?

I have mostly told you what I know you need to hear
as you've counted off the minutes...
and the promises of lonliness...and passing years.

Time, my love,
dances slowly in the distance almost always standing still.
Like a spirit's hand
has took a ghostly grip to guide the wheel.

When I cry...
all my tears mix with the sea
to swell the tides...
And I can't say how far off they're taking me.

When I die...
I think the warm, wet winds will moan
And I will smile...
for I will know they're only tryin' to call me home.

Ed
Hong Kong

Thanks. Hope you enjoyed. I live to know that you are satisfied with things. You know what I mean...things.

Travelin' Ed

A B'rer Rabbit kinda story

Me and brother Dave took straight pins on the bus one day. We were 12 and 14, maybe more, maybe less. But close to that. And why do you think we took pins on the bus? Yep. To stick people. And we did.

We hadn't really considered that we might get kicked off the bus. We rarely wasted our time with thinking a plan all the way through. But anyway, there we found ourselves. Removed from free transportation to school on Columbus County, NC's dime.

We told Mom we would be needing a ride for a while, to which she replied something like, "What do you want me to do about it?" "Well, you'll have to drive us." "Says who?" "Mom, we can't ride the bus. Aren't you listening?" "Well, I didn't tell you to act the fool so I don't guess I got to drive you."

Hmmmm, this might need a new tack. "Well, mom, I suppose I could ride my bike. But it's stuck in 5th gear which makes it near impossible to pedal up the hill." By the way, brother Dave was offering up his expert, though still unheeded, expert opinions all the time also.

And you know what? That woman did not care. Just kept coming back to that tired old refrain of "If you don't want to be punished, do do bad stuff." That logic ain't gonna work. We're boys, for crying out loud. Bad stuff is what we know best.

So there we were, developing giant leg muscles for pedaling all the way to school on 5 speed bikes that were old and incapable of shifting gears.

And every day we got in to school later and later. And it wasn't because of the bikes. And it wasn't because we didn't leave early enough. It was because we had to cross the bridge over the railroad tracks. (The same place where we used to hop in to the pulpwood chip cars, if you recall that post. If you don't, nevermind. Sorry for the interruption.)

Now, in South Eastern NC one of the greatest things, besides Michael Jordan, is the weeds that grow wild. You can eat them. Surely you've heard of polk salad. Well, blackberries is a weed also. And they grow wild in huge thickets that can be found in places like the slope that runs along side a highway bridge over some railroad tracks that lead into a paper mill. They grow good and thick there. And, I might add, they got big old juicy berries. Big as your thumb and sweet as all get out.

Now, if you have ever enjoyed the fruits of a blackberry patch you know one thing for sure. No matter where you are standing and no matter how big the berries are right there, there is ALWAYS a batch of bigger, blacker, juicier berries a few feet farther in.

So what would start as a quick stop for a few berries on our way to school would end up with us, an hour later, 50 yards deep in the brambles, with big old blackberry smiles, picking and eating with wild abandon. One eye always open for snakes and not another care in the world. And, as I recall it, we were pretty regular, too.

They let us back on the bus. It seemed that me and Dave weren't really learning our lesson.

Thanks AI for your post on blackberries. Made me rememberize this good memory.

Travelin' Ed

ANTM

Miss Noriko, my wife extraordinare (when she's not throwing the TV remote across the room), is convinced that my niece can be America's Next Top Model. What? Don't hand me that crap. I am NOT the only one of us that watches that.

She's sure Marisa poses just right and smiles good for the camera. She thinks that the camera likes her. She thinks that she dresses OK and can do quite stellar in that department. She thinks improvement needs to be made in these two areas:
1. Not wearing other peoples shoes. Especially when they are 10 sizes too big.
2. Doing something good with that hair.

Not bad, for a 5 year old. I mean, sure there's room for improvement. I don't need Tyra Banks to point that out. But the general cocensus in this house, and by cocensus I mean Noriko pontificating and me just nodding my head in resignation to the inevitable, is that with Noriko's expertise and eye for fashion and my money, we can fix her up right.

Congratulations Marisa, you've made it to the next round. You're still in the running to be America's Next Top Model.

(No, seriously. This is the kind of stuff I talk about now. And to think I used to be all about road trips and swamp fishing.)

Travelin' Uncle Ed

Whatever

Maybe my hands were cold or something. I don't know. But anyway, after 2 days of rejecting every single attempt to view my blog, today everything was back to normal. What-ever.

Thank goodness. I was fixin' to wipe the hard drive and reload everything clean. And that's a chore.

Travelin' Ed

Bling #1 of 3. Here's the pimp bracelet Nong bought me. 24k gold with 1 carat of diamonds spelling out Edward. She sure likes to buy me shiny things. 

Bling #2 of 3 

Bling pic #3 of 3 

Admirable folks

I already told y'all how much I like Kid Rock. Especially as a person behind the persona. So, to start to get on with what I've got to say here, I won't cover that ground again. But I will give a quick recap: I think he's a decent dude. Now I will tell you this:

I'm a big fan of Toby Keith. He's another one I think is really genuine. I just watched him with the troops in Iraq. All I can say is people like him are the real deal. I think he grew up with an army dad, but I picked that up out of a song and might be wrong.

Sometime today I'll take a picture of this gold and diamond bracelet the wife bought me for a dual birthday & anniversary present. I'll post it right after. It's really pimpin'.

Back to music personalities (I recorded the CMA Awards and just watched it this morning) that caught my eye today. How about that Gretchen....Gretchen....Oh good grief, I forgot her last name. Is it Gretchen Wilson? Anyway, she's the one that sang Redneck Woman and Here For The Party. OK, if that girl ain't authentic country then, as David Allan Coe would say, I'll kiss your ass.

First she was genuinely surprised each time her name was called. And if you checked out the grand ladies of Nashvile...Reba, Lee Ann Womack, Faith Hill, etc. (and I did), you saw a lot of designer gowns and jewelry. Before I go on, I LOVED Gretchen. Now, with that said, I'll say again, she's real country because there she was in her tight jeans and tank top with her bra straps showing. And those big old, straight out of the trailer park, hoop earrings. God, bless her. They say sing about what you know and it appears that's just what she does.

I'm at a TV tray in the living room and it's making my arms ache trying to type, so this won't be much longer. Anyway, it's 8 AM Sunday morning, so of course, SNL is just coming on. Tonight Linsday Lohan is hosting, so the morning is looking up suddenly. I like the show pretty good. And I, like tens of billions of others, love the Weekend Update each week.

Travelin' Ed's SNL skit re-enactment:
Lindsay Lohan to Lindsay Lohan from the future: Wait...are we doing porn??
Future Lindsay: No, we're introducing porn. It's totally different.

Travelin' Ed

Allow New Comments on This Post Yes No

Things what they like to say about me:

1. He ain't heavy. He's a bother.
2. At first he seems insane, but that's just crazy.
3. Just like the son I never wanted.
4. You're eighteen, boy. Now I'm cutting off your end of the table and sending you into the navy.

As the Mysterious Rhinestone Cowboy used to sing:
Soulshine. It's better than sunshine. It's better than moonshine. It's damn sure better than rain.

Ain't it the truth, baby. Ain't it the truth.

OK, this is just weird. Check them out...THEY'VE GOT GPS!!

This is a crying shame. I am in a funk, but not funky. Today's CNN poll:
Should the Spice Girls get back together?
Yes....30%....10227 votes
No.....70%....24283 votes

Travelin' Ed

No doubt you’re living in a dream. Let me tell you a story. - Karen

Quote of the Day:
But, like most actors in popular commercials, I became addicted to heroin. – The Cocoa Devil guy, Will&Grace

I’ve got a couple of girls really messing with my head. One of them I’ve known for 28 years (yeah, missy, count ‘em) and the other is a bit younger than that. They popped onto my blog and left me a trail of clues of who they were and that they were, like tiny, misshapen, yet ultimately benevolent extra terrestrials, making contact. Cool idea, except for one thing. I’m dense. Obtuse. Not the sharpest crayon in the box. And one of them is old enough and has known me long enough to know that. Of course, once they took their little clues and innuendos, delicately scribed them across a 2X4 and then whopped me upside the head with it…well then I was OK. I could see the clues. I understood the title of the blog (a nod to two of us, no?) I slapped my forehead (d'oh!) in recognition. But please, remember this: Silly rabbits. Tricks aren’t for squids.

I’m not usually into instrumental songs because I like words. Words are like quiet little friends who never need to borrow money. Although words won’t get you out of going to jail, either, as I found out in Waukegan, IL one night on my way back from Milwaukee. Stupid cop told me to shut up and get in the car. How rude.

But I quite like the song IN MEMORY OF ELIZABETH REED. That song is too cool. I’ve been listening to old Allman Bros. Band for the last couple of days. Those guys were brilliant. Wasted Words. Whipping Post. Blue Skies. Southbound. All just brilliant stuff. I love the blues lyrics, too:

Girl there just ain’t no way
I’m going out that front door.
‘Cause there’s a man out there.
Might be your man, I don’t know.

The seventies. Man, what a time to be from the southland. The Allmans. Skynyrd. Cowboy hats. Smokey and the Bandit. Hee Haw. Oohhhh yeah, Hee Haw. Well, that was pretty much a low point. (I searched the world over and I thought I’d found true love/ But you met another and thhhbbbtttt! You were gone). Only show I’ve ever hated worse was The Dukes of Hazzard. Boss Hogg and his insipid, inbred deputy just made me see red. What a terrible stereotype.

I was thinking this morning during what I will euphemistically refer to as a “near occurrence” that if these fine young Japanese ladies would wear their dresses with hemlines down a little closer to their knees, I wouldn’t nearly run down so many pedestrians. Yeah, sure fella, in theory you have the right of way……

Anybody watch the American Idol fianle? I did. It was eerie how natural Bo Bice looked fronting Lynyrd Skynyrd. And boy did he sound good.

Celeriac, out
Travelin' Ed

Shhhh...it's a stupid story hiatus

But rather this morning I shall tender a stupid poem instead. This is actually for a gal up north (nearly Canada really) and is completely true. But I know for a fact she ain't a reader of this humble rag. So it's cool. It ain't that often I get spooked and run like this.

Enjoy. I live for your satisfaction, however tepid. Double your money back. With a simile.

(If You) Hold Me Down Tonight 18 Aug 96

To you I've never been no more than restlessness and lies.
Like lightning bugs in Mason jars, pretty but they can't fly.
Yes, I understand the principle, but baby roll the dice...
Might understand the randomness that simulates my life.
I'll slip into the darkness when that collar gets too tight.
Love, life and lies.

Now beauty, there's no question girl, the world belongs to you.
And a man could go half crazy just to watch the way you move.
How I loved your warmth and tenderness, but could not take the lights
you shined into my eyes to always keep me in your sight.
Yes, I'll slip right through your fingers if you hold me down tonight.
Love, life and lies.

Though we're far removed from strangers, intertwined at morning light.
I can recognize the longing I see hidden in your eyes.
Yes, I understand the principle, but baby I ain't blind...
it's nothing more than randomness that simulates my life.
Now I'm lost between forboding and the fact that I'm on fire.
Love, life and lies.

Yes, I understand the principle, but baby roll the dice...
try and understand the randomness that simulates my life.

Ed
Florida Keys

OK, that's what I got. I'll see what I can do once I get to the office. Boredom often is inspirational.

Travelin' Ed

The Disapperance. A Hardly Boys Mystery

Me and the wife don't agree about money. Or maybe that should be the wife and I don't agree about money. I vaguely remember my mom teaching me that the easiest way to figure out which was correct was to drop the other person from the sentence. "Me don't agree about money" somehow doesn't sound all that correct, while "I don't agree about money" sorta does.

Where was I? Oh yeah. But we don't have that many arguments about money. I have a pretty good plan that works fairly well. It's not fool proof, but what is, right? What I do is pay all the bills up front. And trust me, we don't have any bills to speak of, only phone, internet and a very small credit card balance I keep just to keep my credit rating nudging upwards. Then I peel off $100-$120 for pocket money for me. But that's for the whole 2 weeks and I don't always spend it all. Leftover pocket money of mine gets stashed, of course. All the rest I give to her. It's not real heavy on the saving aspect, but I get left alone to watch The Simpsons (the best show on TV) and Everybody loves Raymond re-runs. Everybody wins.

My hits on this site have steadily risen and that's weird. Of course, I'm not making any money at this. I don't know why I said that though, other than it's true. Oh, and I also found out I was the sole link on a new web page called "Travels of a Coal Miner's Daughter". I posted a comment on her site to tell her I was honored. sk, that oughta make you happy...she's coal people. Or Loretta Lynn people. Oh yeah, she was so funny. For her "bio" she quoted the first verse and chorus of SIXTEEN TONS, that old song Tennessee Ernie Ford made famous. Kinda the last thing you expect from a 20 year old woman.

If the article on Yahoo! news is to be believed, the Saint's owner is thinking about moving the team to LA. Hasn't decided, mind you, but is thinking. Of course, it is very, very likely to be an extortion attempt on his part to get a new stadium or something. But just in case, I'll keep it simple. Benson moves the team...Travelin' Ed hunts him down and kills him. Word.

Paul Newman said on TV yesterday that he used to drink a case of beer a day. What the heck!!?? Why didn't he get a beer belly, then? That kinda crap just ain't fair. Doggone Hollywood elite.

I didn't plan this as an experiment, but it kinda turned out that way:
I returned from the dentist yesterday with a mouth full of novacaine. It was starting to wear off but I was still pretty numb (with an n, not a d). I was hungry, but he hadn't mentioned a waiting time before I could chew. Part of me said that means I can eat anything, anytime but another part of me said just give it an hour. Yeah, I have all these inner conflicts.

Then I remembered that I had a banana, although I don't remember the brand or country of origin. But don't most of them come from Nicaragua or Honduras? So methinks to meself, surely a banana is safe enough to eat. You only eat the cob and the cob is quite soft usually. So I peeled it and took a big old huge bite of cob, safe in the belief that my teeth would come to no harm because of it.

It was the strangest thing. The combination of the novocaine in my gums and tongue and the soft sorta semi-gooey consistency of the banana made for a disapperance. Yes, you heard right. A disapperance. One chew and I couldn't find it anymore. Couldn't feel it in my mouth nor feel it with my tongue when I felt around for it. Logic says it was there, and I swallowed under the assumption that I was swallowing banana goo even though I couldn't sense it in any way. I am also pretty certian that I got full vitamin value from the unfelt banana goo I assume that I succeeded in ingesting. And potassium. I do know that bananas got potassium in them. Like I said, it wasn't an experiment so much as a discovery. Yep...I learn so you don't have to.

Well, now you know what I know. A proud feeling, isn't it?

Schwarmerei, out
Unravelin' Ed

Living life out to it's illogical conclusion.

Warning!! Danger Will Robinson!! I will probably reveal my political bent, and it may not be pretty. You've been toad.

If a kid doesn't go to school, the parent is responsible and can face repercussions. If the kid goes bad, the parent is at fault. Auto accidents, arson, underage drinking, smart aleck mouth...all parental responsibilities. If your kid is a hellion, an underachiever, an at risk junior, a juvenile delinquent... we scream to the parents, "Get on the stick! Do your job! FIX the problem!!!" I'll come back to this.

I cannot carry a child in my womb as I am pretty much without womb. I only possess what I think of as the fun parts. Not the ones that do the work necessary for making a little people. I'm not really-pro abortion, but neither am I anti-abortion. For several reasons. One, it doesn't particularly apply to me. Two, I don't believe anything is black and white. There are reasons to keep a baby, but I think there are just as valid reasons for not. And, not to be too flippant, but if the pro-life stance is carried out to the extreme, wouldn't mastrubation be denying "perhaps the next Einstein" a chance to be born? Well...I'm pretty sure I ain't producing the next Einstein, but you get the picture. And anyway, I may instead be denying the next Jeffery Dahmer the chance to be born. So still, it's a crap shoot. Third, everybody doesn't make good parents...yada, yada, yada. You've heard all the pros and cons, I just wanted to get you on this train of thought. Because it's a serious matter that deserves more serious discussion and less impassioned fanaticism. And less bumper stickers. Bumper stickers are not serious discussion. And DEFINATELY less bombs and bullets.

OK, back to the original point. Parents are responsible for their children's actions. So why in the world would it be correct to contact the parent if a child is truant, but not if she's pregnant and getting an abortion? What is the logic behind that? And, in my humble opinion, she should be afraid to tell her parents. And if her and her parents are ok with a child having a child, well then I feel that the pregnancy itself isn't the biggest problem in that family. I'm going to stop here. I don't suppose to tell people what to think. I just want them to think. I think we screw up our priorities a lot because we don't feel comfortable talking about our differences. It seems much easier just to shout down anyone who disagrees. Or shoot them down.

Now the light stuff.

I had fun yesterday. See, there are a lot of Japanese nationals working on base, plus more than a few Japanese spouses working on base. So you tend to deal with them a lot. They are all educated, well spoken, polite and competent. But, the fact remains that they are Japanese. So they tend to take things literally, at least at first. It takes them a couple of beats to realize when they're being messed with. And I do it so naturally and with such a straight face, I can almost hear their gears a'grinding as they try to process what I've just said. That's the set-up.

Yesterday, anytime a Japanese national said anythig to me, such as, "Cash or credit card?", "What is your work phone?", or "When will you be available to come in for a dental cleaning?", I would get a slightly...and I mean slightly...perplexed look on my face and say, "Huh? Oh, Nissan. I drive a Nissan." It was hilarious. The look on their faces and me just looking back at them as if waiting for the rest of the question or something. I've said it before and I'll say it again...I CRACK ME UP!

Flexural, out.
Travelin' Ed

Snimativ, uh-huh.

Friends, Roam ins, and County Commissioners. Lend me your ears.

Let's talk vitamins, shall we? I take a supplement every day except weekends. I don't want to over do it. And that whole "daily" vitamin is more of a suggestion than a directive anyway. I take the vitamins with additional minerals. Kinda strange that adding all those minerals doesn't make the pill larger, but it's the same size as vitamins alone. Weird. I take what they call the Men's Formula Daily Vitamins with Minerals. Or as I like to call them, "Vita-mans".

I do not buy Centrum and I also do not buy One-A-Day. Or any other national brand. I buy Navy Exchange brand. $2-something per 100 count bottle, or just under $8 per year. I want good health, but I'm not fanatical. I'm Scots-Irish. And here's my reasoning.

Vitamins come from plants. You know, fruits, vegetables, and probably flowers and weeds too. I think some come from the sun, although just how that would work escapes me. And maybe you can get vitamins from animals, but again I'm not sure. So, as my hero Calvin says, "I don't know, but I refuse to find out."

Minerals come from rocks. I thought maybe tree bark, too, but now I think tree bark is more a delivery system for vitamins and roughage. But regardless, I'm pretty sure about the whole rocks give us minerals line of thought. So that's where we'll leave it. Minerals are from rocks. And the body doesn't need uranium, so we won't even bother with that.

So why buy the cheapest vitamins(with minerals) available, you ask, attempting to get me moving along. Because when it comes to plants, rocks, perhaps sun and maybe animals, how much better of a source can one company have over the other? Think about it. Can Centrum get better rocks than the Navy Exchange? Probably not. Plants is plants is plants and like it or not, we all get the same sun. Now I suppose there could be a discernable quality difference between animals, but we're not completely sure that animals are even a part of this equation, so I find it is more convienent for me to just ignore that angle.

Now let me take a moment to recap and let you slower ones (you don't know who you are, but I do) catch up. The ingredients have to be pretty similar from one brand to the other. This I believe. So, with all other things being equal, buy the cheapest.

There you go. Expert advice for a better life. I live to make you happier. It's OK, don't thank me.

129 & wu. Oh yeah.

Yagi, out

Travelin' Ed

A knuckle draggin' manly man

Hola, boys and girl. My peeps and wannabes. What's shakin'?

Topic 1. There's something I don't understand.

Topic 2. Women wanna be me and men wanna be like me. Not sure what boys do.

Topic 3. I have found this to be true more often than not. And I'm not going to kid you. It seems that if it's not one thing it IS the other. Who knew?

Topic 4. We all know and love faithful readers Pipedragger, sk, AI and the Gunner. There's anonymus folks and the occasional ne'er-do-well. I think my mom and dad even check in occasionally, although, after 45 years of this crap they don't find me near as entertaining as others might.

So yesterday I figured out I had me another of them stealth readers. This one is down in Gautier, in the great state of Mississippi. The Hospitality State. Goes by the handle of JoeMama. He was a Gunners Mate in the navy, and as I recall, a damn fine one. So don't let the sun dress fool ya. He's a knuckle draggin' manly man from way back. What's he doing now, you ask? Only helping to put together new warships for the finest navy in the world. How's that for honest work.

Topic 5. Man this car I bought keeps getting pricier and pricier. First there was this whole paying extra for the stuff you really want concept that the factory sprung on me. That's kinda stupid, really. After all, I'm doing them the favor by buying the car. But...what ya gonna do?

Then I find out that I got this whole paying taxes to the state of Florida thing going on. Well where the heck did that come from? That's like a whole other $1450 I have to shell out. And I had also forgot about that insurance, too. I'm guessing they won't exactly be giving that away either. I probably should have bought a horse.

Topic 6. I numbered these topics for your convienence. I exist only to please you. Or to pleasure myself. I can't remember for sure.

Topic 7. Man, I'm turning to a real social animal in my old age. I don't really like people. Well, I like you, but it's the other people. You understand. Check it out:
Mon-Thurs - Go to work. People all over the place. Arggh.
Fri - My friend from the ship comes to visit.
Sat - Wake up and go check. Yep. Friend still here.
Sun - Friend gone. Oh yeah, dinner party tonight with Tata and Haru. Thai food. Lots of it! And cold San Miguel beer.
Mon- Those pesky work people again. And...babysitting a two year old in the evening. Now I could be wrong. She may be three years old. But regardless, she took up floor space in my living room. **

Not much to tell you really. I am, as you know, only a thin layer of smog covering my corner of the blogsphere. Merely a haze, hanging around in a, well, hazy sort of way. Nothing useful here. You know what the cops say. Well, it applies here. They say, "Hey. Are you gonna finish that doughnut?" No, not really. They don't say hey.

Travelin' Ed

** In the off chance that Kelli, Tae, or one of their friends reads this...we enjoyed it and were glad to do it. OK? Seriously. I just have a crotchety literary reputation to maintain. You understand, right? Are we cool???

Inside one of the temples. Nong went here just before putting herself in the hospital for surgery.

Nong--winterized.  

Navy. Love. Navy love. The mighty warship Vincennes....I think.

My sweet, reserved wife. Apparently my baby is on a Twinkie high right now. 

A little sumthin' sumthin' for the ladies. Mmmmm, bootylicious. 

Ah yes, a redneck living the high life. Yes, ladies, you could share in all this. If you talk nicely that is. 

Whoa, Nelly. YET another one fo' da ladies. Yes, a real man of distinction. OK, AI, do you doubt my North Carolina roots now?? 

Final Jeopardy answer is: Stockard Channing

Bing Bing....Why is she the first name displayed in the WEST WING opening credits, Alex? Good question, smart dude, because she plays a relatively small part in the show.

Now that TV has so many channels and everything has gone digital, why can't we have a machine that will record 2 or more incoming channels. Second question, if there is such a critter, and I'm talking consumer electronics here, how come I don't know about it?

Check out the presidential platform Victoria Woodhull ran on in the 19th century. It was pretty radical.

Cowboy Troy has an album out. I just saw him on Leno. Big & Rich were backing him. I like them. The song was I PLAYED CHICKEN WITH A TRAIN.

Two questions.
1. Did any of you besides me watch any of the show AMISH IN THE CITY? I caught 2 episodes in Colorado and 2 in San Diego. I thought it was OK.
2. Am I a bad guy if I thought some of them Amish chicks were hot? (Get thee into a Wicked Weasel, I say)

Quote of the day: I don't know how to shave a llama. -- Ellen DeGeneres

ESPN has a deal with Army Football. It looks like this year all their losses will be televised.

Maybe I'm cynical or apathetic. But I just don't get worked up over too much stuff. Oh, I may make a passing comment, but I seldom feel downright passionate. I should feel bad about that I suppose, but I don't really care.

Pipe Dragger. Dude, I've been enjoying the jokes. Especially the one about the blonde and the jigsaw puzzle.

I don't usually agree with Al Jazeera, but they're right. Sadaam in his cell in his underwear, obviously just going to bed or just getting up, is NOT NEWS. And for all of you Arabs or Muslims or whoever it is getting all agitated...get a life. Aren't you also in your drawers just prior to going to bed and just after getting up?? Well, aren't you? This whole professional victim schtick is wearing a bit thin.

That's my take on it for today.

Travelin' Ed

Friday. 10 AM. Planet Earth.

Hola, my peeps. Not sure why I say that, but I sure do like it.

Well, I burned myself out over the last couple of days. Between e-mails, resumes and blogs (mine and comments on other peoples), I wrote a whole bunch. Now I'm dragging. Guess it happens.

Got a real Mexican standoff going. Well, not really, I just gotta wait six weeks before I can do anything. Short version: GM wanted to see that I had financing for my car before they actually started building it and USAA wanted a VIN before they would finance. Cars that ain't built yet don't have VINs. Luckily, via the magic of scanners and faxes and those friendly little ones and zeros running around and doing who knows what inside a desktop computer, we were able to show GM I had financing for the car but it couldn't be finalized without a VIN. So they will build my car on June 13th, I'll get a VIN, blah blah, blah. Everybody is happy. Especially me. I have my first ever sunroof and I have always wanted one. This one is a "4 panel sunroof". You know what that means, don't you? Yeah, neither do I, but it costs about $700.

In 11 kilometers of commute I go through 7 tunnels that are bored through the bases of hills. When you think about it, that's kinda a lot of tunnels. Not that I reckon you really think about it.

Here lately, almost everything I do, say, read or watch gets run through a sort of mental filter to see if it's bloggable. I think that's not good. I really enjoy the blogging. I love the ruminating and postulating, the rhetoric and the proselytizing, but still. I told you before, I can kind of be one of them OCD dudes if I'm not careful. So I'm gonna be keeping an eye on me for a while.

I have a dinner party on Sunday (Yeah,I know. Just like a little grown up.) so Saturday is clean and prep day and Sunday we comex dinner-ex '05. Monday I'm on the stick to teach the radar spec brief again, assuming USS John S. McCain supports a little better next week than USS Curtis Wilbur did this week. (Yeah, that's right. I put 'em on report here.) Tuesday I have to go to the dentist. So, if I blog I blog and if I don't,well, I have excuses.Lot's of 'em.

Be good. Or be good at it.

Bergemot, out
Travelin' Ed

Poems and pictures and bares. Oh my.

OK, there ain't gonna be any bares. And trust me, you'll thank me for that. I've seen me naked, and...and...well, it is not a pleasant sight. But still, the title is good and catchy and who doesn't take a little license now and then for a catchy phrase or title? OK, besides you.

Like I told you before, when I've got nuthin', and I mean a whole bunch of nuthin', I post a poem or picture. What you don't know now, but you will in just a second or two, is that I'm getting ready to post a poem. Yep, and last night I posted pictures. So what does that tell you? (Oh good grief...it tells you I got nuthin', aren't you listening!?)

Enjoy. I live for your approval.

Reflections Like a Mirror

I'd curse you but I guess
that it ain't your fault I got lonely.
My smile that fades to nothin'
hides the reasons I go on.
Though I knew you like I know
I never knew a lot of others.
Everything is not so easy as
a simple right or wrong.

I've gotta tell you that I loved you
Though you knew I wouldn't stay
I held your heartbeat for a moment
when our sparks flew bright as day.

Found the dancing lights I followed
out on one long, endless highway.
Every night to hang my hat up
in a place I'd not call home.
Maybe what you saw in me
was just reflections like a mirror
Shows you what you need to see
and not what's hidden in the soul.

I've gotta tell you when I held you
time stood still as when we lay out
'neath a night sky stretched forever
and our sparks flew bright as day.

(bridge)
If I could I'd bind my heart
all up into a velvet prison
But in the end we both know
that ain't something that we'll see
And wishing for what might have been
ain't gonna get us nowhere
Still we should smile,
'cause for a while
our sparks flew bright as day.

People that might meet me
could believe that I've stopped trying
It's easy to misunderstand
the weariness I've known.
But if they'd walk a mile
as they say, in my shoes, by morning
I'm pretty sure they'd understand
regret's a heavy load.

Ed
Cigar Porch
Zushi City

Criterium (OK, Gunner, you'll approve of this one), out
Travelin' Ed

One of my favorite pictures of me. My favorite is one I call "Feets into Hong Kong", but it's just my feet. I guess if we had to name it, we could call this one "Head near a Fire Hydrant". 

A nimble elephant. That's me, the one NOT in shorts. I don't do shorts. 

Mr. Baggy Britches rafting down the river. Mom and Dad were on the raft too, but you can't see them. 

Riding elephants in Chang Mai. You're there, so you gotta do it. It is not, by the way, a particularly comfortable ride. 

This is the Thai mafia in Yokosuka. I am their godfather. I wish. 

Frequent flyer smiles

I was commenting on one of the Appalachian Gun Trash's posts over at his site when I realized this ought to be a post in and of itself. Since I wrote it I don't guess it's stealing. And if it is, aren't I stealing from myself? And if I am...well, what if I am? I think I'm a decent enough fellow (bloke, to those of you across the pond) to overlook it. Once.

So Gunner, thanks for getting me started. Lord knows I can use all the help I can get. And say hi to Ashley Judd for me. She's hot.

This may or may not be embellished as I go along. My mind is revving but I don't know yet if it's actually in gear. Although by the length of this pre-ramble, I'm betting it is.

I live overseas and have for years. With the exception of a few (stress on few) German and French tourists, and one drunk Englishman (and I believe in his case it was more the Guiness Stout talking), I have had predominantly pleasant encounters in my travels.

Contrary to what many people would have you believe, my experience has been that being an American is most definately a plus. I get asked all the time if I'm American. I never hide it. I say yes and they usually respond with a smile. Now, I'm not loud and overbearing, I don't dress outlandishly, and the only reason people home in on my nationality is becuase of my accent. It's southern twang a little bit of coon ass thrown in for flavor.

People seem to want to have American friends. I don't know why, but I think it has a lot to do with us, for the most part, being more friendly and humble as a people than gets reported. We love to laugh and often have a self-deprieciating style of humor. We say please and we say thank you. Usually we mean it, and people pick up on that. Trust me, a smile is usually repaid with just as big a smile.

Also, we respect others more than we get credit for. Especially women. While we have our share of neandrethal wife beaters and trash talkers, the average American male has not grown up believing that a woman is inherently inferior, unworthy of education, and definately was disabused early on of any notion that she might be his property. That is not true everywhere else. I travel in a lot of male dominated societies and I tell you this...it's no mystery to me why an American man abroad has a fairly easy time of finding a girlfriend. They know we treat them nicer. We can't help it.

And we're a pretty inclusive people. After all, we are basically a nation made up of "others". My foreign born wife noticed it on her first trip stateside. She got her ideas of the US from TV. Americans are white or black. Occasionally, we're Hispanic, but not very often. I tried to tell her different but she had no experience other than TV and US tourists in Thailand (mostly young, mostly white, mostly back packers).

She was worried that everybody would stare or treat her different because she was Asian. Then she got to Florida and saw that NO ONE CARES about your nationality. Really. Her comment to me, once she realized why she felt comfortable here was that it seemed that everybody was different, which made everybody the same. (OK, that actually does make sense, you just gotta think about it.)

Want an example? Break down in anyplace other than downtown in a big city and ask for help. It'll come by the truckload. Maybe you haven't noticed it lately. But we're good people. I can't help it. I like me. And I like you, too.

OK, I'm off the soap box now.

Suslik, out
Travelin' Ed

Who the heck knows...

....why I think of these things.

1. Wally Cox on the Hollywood Squares used to crack me up. Paul Lynde, on the other hand, always seemed a bit creepy to me.
2. I never cared all that much for Styx. Wanna guess which (rock) band I've seen the most? Yep, three times. Although to be fair I've seen Blue Oyster Cult three times also. They were cool. BOC, that is.
3. Guinea pigs are fairly boring pets.
4. We used to let our 2 hamsters run free in the den when we lived in Riegelwood, NC. In fact, the pampered little rodents even got a pickle jar lid of ice cream when the rest of us had a bowl. The golden hamster ate his right off, but the teddy bear hamster actually took his first lid of ice cream back to the cage to save for later. He woke up with his butt all sticky and didn't ever do it again.
5. I poured gasoline down a bee hole and lit it. I figured that since they had built a nest right in my prime fishing area (our back yard was on a lake) they might as well die. That is the afternoon I came to learn that there is always a second bee hole. Those mean little suckers stung me up good before I figured out what had happened and then chased me all around the yard, flailing and screaming.
6. If you drive straight up I-15 to Poway from San Diego, instead of going SD to El Cajon to Ramona to Poway, it really isn't that far.
7. Sports is a lot easier to watch on TV. Well, baseball is OK live...too bad I'm not a baseball fan. Anyway, football live has a lot of standing around that you don't notice at home 'cause you're watching beer commercials. Basketball just moves too fast and you can't tell who fouled who. And if you're seated next to Terry Holland, as I was at a UVA game once, there's too many people coming and going to even have a chance to watch the game.
8. Honeycombs was a pretty good cereal.
9. If you ever watched the TV show ZOOM! growing up, you'll never forget the zip code for Boston, Mass. Oh-two-one-three-four. (But you have to sing it)
10. Johnny Quest was the best cartoon going. But that idiot dog Bandit was a pain and kept getting Johnny into hot water. And I never really understood what Haji brought to the table. But those giant mechanical spiders were the best, were they not?
11. Ron Howard was a wild child in his early movies like EAT MY DUST and GRAND THEFT AUTO.
12. Remember getting into a car trunk to sneak into crap like MACON COUNTY LINE, BIG,BAD MAMA and WALKING TALL?
13. The chips in a pulpwood chip car are really, really warm. We used to go down to the rail road tracks and climb onto the cars. They were moving slow because they were headed into the paper mill yard. We would jump from car to car. It's OK, we were 14 so were were perfectly safe. I mean, everybody knows 14 year olds are indestructable. The chips are not, however, near as soft as they look to be.
14. If a cotton mouth can't bite you underwater, then how come they spend so much time underwater. No, I'm not buying it.
15. We had a game where everybody bought a 6 1/2 oz Coca-Cola (remember those?) and flipped the bottle over to see what city it came from. Whoever had the bottle from the furthest away had to pay for them all. That's why there was a map taped to the coke machine.
16. People always joke about yankees and grits, but try to get a yankee to eat a boiled peanut.
17. HAVANA DAYDREAMIN' & A PIRATE LOOKS AT FORTY are two of Buffett's most brilliant songs.
18. Pretty much everybody is OK one on one. But more than that, people are pretty hard to deal with.
19. Bell bottom denim jeans with patch pockets. Man, we were so cool.
20. I had a million of those little yellow disks you put in the hole of a 45 record so you could stack them on the tall spindle and play them as a group. I haven't seen a single one of them in ages.
21. Speaking of record players, a hamster can hang on for 16, 33, and 45 RPM but goes flying at 78 RPM.
22. I'm getting old.

Extremum, out
Travelin' Ed

Black. Mostly black.

Just a couple of things. My class cancelled my radar brief last week, but didn't bother to tell us anything until this morning when we called to ask where they were. I look sad on the outside, but that's just for show. It's too pretty outside to be inside.

When I wrote the title, which by the way is about umbrellas, this tidbit just kinda popped into my head. On the CD I just bought, Willie Nelson Live: Angels and Outlaws, he has a duet with the honorable Mr. Kid Rock on the song Shotgun Willie. In one stanza of that song he writes about a feller who joins the Ku Klux Klan and then gets rich selling sheets on the family plan. That really struck me the other day only because in these times we live in, even though the Klan was mentioned as part of a humorous song, a risk like that is not usually taken. Of course, Shotgun Willie is a pretty old song. And we are talking about Willie Nelson.

And in another oh by the way, he has duets with Shelby Lynn and with Al Green that are just fantastic. The only reasons I am not pushing this as a must have album is a) Willie is an acquired taste for many, and b) Willie keeps getting slower and slower every year.

I love Kid Rock, though not in the biblical sense. He's a right decent mix of redneck hellraiser and rocker. Anybody that counts Skynyrd, Dave Coe and Bocephus among his heroes and friends is alright in my book. But what made me buy the first CD of his was one of those "with the troops" specials on TV. He was so down to earth and friendly. He interacted with the young troops in a very sincere way and seemed to genuinely enjoy talking with them. He was respectful and humorous simutaneously and never condescending. I thought, "That's a great guy." I have found nothing to change my mind.

Also, during the Super Bowl (I think it was the Super Bowl, but anyway it was something high profile) he came out wearing the flag as a cape. I watched him closely on that, because while that did not particularly bother me, I wanted to see what he did with it when he took it off. What he did was kinda back towards the drum set where a stage hand took it off his back and spirited it away. I was watching and it didn't touch the ground. I was pretty happy with that.

So imagine my suprise when I read in our newspaper a few days later that the Kid ought to banned from TV and the pages of the paper because, among other really, REALLY heinous things, he wore the flag as a cape and just dropped it on the stage like a rag. I'm telling you what, some people take their agenda so seriously they don't even bother with the facts.

And now, for the reason for this blog. As I was putting on my boondockers in preparation for heading out the door, my gaze fell upon the umbrella stand we have right inside our front door. Now I must tell you that this place has not one, but two rainy seasons so we are far from remarkable in having an umbrella stand at home. On a whim I counted them. Turns out I have 13 umbrellas just inside my front door. How the heck did I get so many? I mean 13 seems a bit excessive, even to me. Then I thought, I also have several in the car, so let's say now I'm at 16 total. Plus, in my closet there are 2 of the collapsable ones I keep to pack when I travel and a giant golf umbrella. Now that's 19. Plus, no telling how many the wife has stashed away in her room. So I'm confident in saying that I have 20+ umbrellas. And they are black. Mostly black.

Donjon, out
Travelin' Ed

10 things

10. DVD/HDD recorders. I like these things a lot more than VCRs. It makes travel in Japan a lot more tolerable when I can slip a week or two's worth of American TV onto a few disks and carry it unobtrusively in my luggage.
9. Petite cigars. Sometimes you ain't got an hour to invest in a stogie. These are perfect. Real cigars, only small. My favorite is the Macanudo.
8. George Forman grill. How can you not love this sucker. It's fantastic. Kicked the crock pot right off the top of the "Favorite Cooker" list. By a knockout (OK, how could I resist?)
7. Cell phones. As much as I want to dislike these things they are really very, very handy. And mine has freed me from being stuck in my hotel room when I travel, waiting in case I get a call from home. Thankfully, they are still just unreliable enough that you can turn it off and claim to have not had a signal and be believed. Then you don't end up yakking through a holiday bowl game or March Madness.
6. Skittles. I don't know who invented these suckers, but God bless 'em. Once I decided that they were so good I would sprinkle them in my homemade ice cream. Bad idea. I went to bite and get a flavorful burst of instant happiness and what I really got was a near broke off tooth. Seems the little fellers freeze up hard as pea gravel in ice cream.
5. Jelly Bellies. Ditto #6 times two! Except the part about the ice cream. The Skittles incident broke me of tossing candy in my ice cream.
4. AFN commercials. For instance, last night I learned that in 1921 the city of Zion, IL banned jazz music, citing its moral decadence. All you learned from your commercials was that you may have offending odors and it is also quite possible that you need a new Ford truck.
3. Orchids and ferns. I really like both of them. A lot. I'm going to grow them.
2. Vin Diesel. He's not really that good of an actor, is he? Nice guy, but I think better in non-speaking roles. (He's standing right behind me, isn't he...?)
1. Bacon in a pouch. Man, who thought of this? It's great, like sliced cheese. Building a bacon cheeseburger has never been easier. I just do it like I do Slim Jims and Livermush. I concentrate on how much I like it and try to pretend it's not made of the ingredients that it is. I mean I really like bacon, livermush and Slim Jims, so I'm pretty good at the denial thing. (And this from a guy that regularly has to cover his eyes during Fear Factor.)

Bonus question: At home, who gets to be the man? Ebert or Roeper? Or neither?

Travelin' Ed

2 Movies

It's a really lazy Sunday afternoon. Tomorrow I'll be on platform, so probably not much posting will get accomplished.

Had just gotten done watching Erin Brokovich. I like that movie. I don't really consider Julia Roberts to be a stone beauty in the classic sense. Usually. But she's a knockout as Erin. So it finished up and we flipped off the DVD player only to find that the movie channel was just starting up Smokey & the Bandit.

You know, sometimes life is just a pure-T joy to be living. Today was one of them days.

Peace, out
Travelin Ed

Stingray

This is the first poem I ever wrote. I was so young, in fact, that I didn't know how to write a poem from scratch. Now I can do either, write a poem from scratch or write a poem and scratch. Ladies and germs, the poem:

I think that I shall never see
A poem purty as a tree
It grows up straight, it grows up fast
Provides the switch to spank my butt

I know. I was a regular Carl Sandburg or something. And I've only gotten better with time.

I took Nong shopping yesterday. I grab ¥10,000 (approx $100) and take her wherever it is she wants to go. Yesterday as we were poking about she found a nice Chanel bracelet she wanted. I didn't kick in the extra she needed to buy it and we went shopping elswhere. But she didn't complain or anything. In fact, she was very accepting. So as we shopped on and didn't really find anything I eventually asked her if she wanted to keep shopping or just go back and get the bracelet. Her eyes lit up. So I took her back for it. Really, what's a wife for if you can't spoil her a little bit?

I made deep dish lasagne yesterday. Not so good. Apparently, when the instructions say to bake for 26 minutes they don't mean an hour and 39 minutes. I didn't know provolone (yes, I made recipe additions) could so thoroughly char. I didn't hear the timer go off. And I was watching the NBA Playoffs. And I'm not that bright to begin with. I kept noticing the house smelled good, like food. I just kept thinking it was wafting in from a neighbor. Eventually I snapped off that a lo-o-o-ong time ago I put some lasagne in the oven. The horror.

I watched the movie SHIKOKU last night. It had that Japanese girl from Kill Bill, Vol. 1 in it. If you saw that movie you'll remember she was killer cool. I bought it from the Navy Exchange so I didn't even consider it might not be in Engish until the previews started playing. At that point I knew. Yeah buddy, it was art house night at Travelin' Ed's. It was a ghost story, but as with all things Japanese it developed painfully slowly. And the Japanese babe, well I mean the Japanese actress, was a ghost and although she dominated the DVD cover she was not on screen very much at all. I have some Japanese friends coming for dinner next Sunday. I think I'll nonchalantly ask, "Ya like ghost stories?", and unload it as a "gift".

Obviously there was nothing to post. And I used up a fair amount of space saying nothing. So will post some pictures and go watch TV.

Travelin' Ed

There I was. Borrowed plane fare, flew from San Diego to Pittsburgh, and slipped on the gray suit and patent leather shoes. I was gonna be Frank's best man. And I was.

I look terrible, which is what happens when I try to keep my waistline down. But Hanami was such a cute girl.  

Me getting Grandmom's blessings and advice when I went to Bangkok to tell the family that Nong and I had decided to marry. The rest of her family (uncles, aunts, etc) are amazed at how well I was showing respect. They say I am real good for a falang (foreigner). 

Secretary of the Navy John Dalton pinning on my Enlisted Surface Warfare pin. 

Dinosaurs. Red, orange and green.

I had oatmeal for breakfast. I like oatmeal. It's exciting like me. And flavorful. Again, like me. Today I got a suprise in my oatmeal.

The only thing I noticed on the label when I bought it was that it was brown sugar and cinnimon flavor. I am talking, by the way, about instant oatmeal. Anyway, when I poured it out in the bowl I noticed what looked like small, pea sized eggs.

I checked the label again and saw that it actually said "dinosaur egg oatmeal brown sugar and cinnamon flavor". OK, so I missed the egg part. Looks like candy anyway, so it may be cool.

So I add the water and start stirring. Soon, to my suprise, I see little colored heads start to poke out of the eggs. Then limbs and then, within about 40 seconds, I had about 20 tiny dinosaurs in my oatmeal. Pretty nifty and totally unexpected (see how I didn't say un-egg-spected).

They tasted like sweetened chalk, but only if you chewed them up and tried to taste them. Otherwise they didn't really taste.

Must be gonna be a good day, if breakfast is any indication.

Congrats to sk. She correctly identified the song artist as being none other than big John Prine. I had 1 response and 1 correct answer. That, folks, is 100%. Can I do a contest or what?

Travelin' Ed

HaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHa ! Ha

Sinister Ducks. Too funny.

140 & WU

NOT THAT YOU ASKED FILE # 53: The status of my face and butt

Hola, peeps. Well, the face is shaved and the butt's been washed, and, strangely enough, vice versa. So since I have 15 min before I head out to work I naturally thought of you guys. Actually, I also thought of you while I was shaving, too. What's more disturbing...I always do.

Originally, this post was to be named "Sempers Flare..." and was to be a take on those Latin mottos. Example: SEMPER BI: Always wondering. I only had two good ones, if we suppose that my example was good, so I yanked it. This blog is a QUALITY PRODUCT, made oveseas but with fine American craftmanship. And I will not publish crap! Very often. I will not publish crap very often. I hope.

You guys have been keeping me busy. Seriously. But you guys make me smile with your comments. That is why I will endeavor to respond to each of your comments. I once thought of cutting and pasting them to a post so I could be sure that you would see that I had responded. But that seemed a might redundant. So I will tell you here, if you made a comment check on it again later and you will find either a witty or a brainless reply. But you will more often than not find something.

OK, Last thing. This is a quiz. It will be graded but not timed. And no fair using the internet for research. That is why I took the liberty of installing the monitoring device/keystroke logger on your computer while you slept. And by the way, you breathe funny when you sleep. I also turned your socks all inside out. You knew something was different, didn't you. Just couldn't put your finger on it.
Me and my true bud DLE used to sing this song a lot when we were younger. We loved this song and FOLSOM PRISON BLUES. Although it was more like he sang and I just caterwauled along. So, your quiz today is to tell me who wrote and performed it. Hint: I've posted about this person before.

Side bar: Once we were writing songs beside a small lake in a park in NC, up near the VA border. Don't really know where we were. We just each drove (he from Coats, NC and me from Portsmouth, VA) to a highway exit roughly in the middle and looked for a park or something once we got there. That's how we found the lake. So anyway, he would play the tune and we'd sing a line, change a line, sing again. I think you get the picture. Anyway, a group (herd? stampede? flock?) of ducks paddled over from about 60 yards away. They came up on shore, waddled over to us and attacked us. Darndest thing. They got mighty pissy when we played and sang and just milled about looking sinister when we stopped. This is true!

PARADISE

When I was a child my family would travel
Down to Western Kentucky where my parents were born
And there's a backwards old town that's often remembered
So many times that my mem'ries are worn

And daddy, won't you take me back to Mulenburg County
Down by the Green River where paradise lay
Well, I'm sorry my son, but you're too late in asking
Mr. Peabody's coal train has hauled it away

Well sometimes we'd travel right down the Green River
To the abandoned old prison down by Avery Hill
Where the air smelled like snakes we'd shoot with our pistols
But empty pop bottles was all we would kill

And daddy, won't you take me back to Mulenburg County
Down by the Green River where paradise lay
Well, I'm sorry my son, but you're too late in asking
Mr. Peabody's coal train has hauled it away

Then the coal company came with the world's largest shovel
And they tortured the timber and stripped all the land
Well they dug for their coal til the land was forsaken
Then they wrote it all down as the progress of man

And daddy, won't you take me back to Mulenburg County
Down by the Green River where paradise lay
Well, I'm sorry my son, but you're too late in asking
Mr. Peabody's coal train has hauled it away

When I die let my ashes float down the Green River
Let my soul roll on up to the Rochester Dam
I'll be halfway to heaven with paradise waiting
Just five miles away from wherever I am

And daddy, won't you take me back to Mulenburg County
Down by the Green River where paradise lay
Well, I'm sorry my son, but you're too late in asking
Mr. Peabody's coal train has hauled it away

--Who wrote me??????

I DON'T KNOW. -Jeff Spicolli

Adulterine, out
Travelin' Ed