Most of you know I'm an avid wing shooter. I love to get out in the field with my trusty retriever and try to rustle up a few game birds. We start our dove season down here around Labor Day and it goes deep into the winter.

Lately I've been seeing a lot more doves in the area and it's getting me to thinking about making plans for where I'm going to hunt this season. We are lucky to have a great bird population here, so finding them is usually not a problem.

I hunt anywhere from Central Texas down into parts of South Texas. It's rough hunting in some of the rattlesnake infested land, but we take it in stride. This will be my new dog's second season and I'm hoping he remembers all the fun we had last year along with the new things we've been working on during the off-season.

He's a good dog - eager to please and has a great nose for birds. Last year he never lost a single bird - even in the high grass and heavy brush of South Texas. I bet he picked up over 100 birds for me. I think we just ate the last of them a couple of weekends ago. So, it's time to start looking for places to hunt for this coming season.

I have a hunting lease deep in the Hill Country and although there are some birds there, we primarily save that property for deer and wild hog hunting. It's 1000 acres, but it's mostly wooded and not really conducive to good wing shooting.

So, we search for leases in more agricultural areas. These include corn, maze, and the coveted sesame fields. A lot of people don't know this, but some farmers grow sesame seeds in Texas and they're like cocaine to birds. They just can't stay away from it. Texas and the Feds have strict laws regarding baiting of migratory game birds, but if you hunt in a field where the grain is actually growing, you're legal. Just don't hunt in a field where the grain has been spread on the ground. You could be fined hundreds of dollars for that and it's not worth it. The laws are a bit ambiguous and are usually left to the interpretation of the game warden, but in all the years I've hunted there, we haven't really had any problems.

One time a few years ago, I got a lead on a place. I got the landowner's phone number and called to inquire about the possibility of a lease to shoot both mourning doves and whitewing doves. The guy was a typical farmer/rancher who had lived and worked out there his entire life. He was your stereotypical Texas cowboy type, complete with the Wrangler jeans, cowboy boots, pearl snap shirt, Red Man chewing tobacco, and South Texas drawl. He was a big man, too - had to be 6'-5", 250 lbs. He would have made John Wayne think twice about pissing him off.

I pride myself on having the ability to talk to almost every type of individal you can ever dream of meeting, all the way from the large corporation CEO, CFO, General Council type to the lowest laborer, ditch digger, rock buster, floor sweeper. I even speak a little Spanish, which is a prerequisite for talking to some of these guys. For some reason, I've always been able to jaw-jack with almost anyone I've come into contact with. Some call it a gift. I've often considered it a curse because I'm usually the one who has to be the mediator or translator in certain conflicts.

Well, after visiting with this landowner for a few minutes on the phone, he invited me to come on down to his place and check it out. He said he'd be glad to meet me anytime I wanted to come out. I told him I appreciated the invite and I'd come out there on Saturday morning. I also told him I'd bring one of my hunting buddies with me to check it out. He said that would be fine and that he was looking forward to meeting us in person.

I called my buddy Jim and told him about the deal and that I'd be over at about 9 a.m. on Saturday to pick him up. Now Jim is what you might call a unique individual. He has a regular job making good money, but he comes from a very wealthy family and truth be known, doesn't really have to work. I pity the fool. He works just to have something to do. His kids are all grown and gone, so he lives with his wife in a very nice place way out in the country not too far from where I live.

One thing about Jim is that no matter how much money he has, he has never learned how to dress. I still haven't figured out if it's because he just doesn't have any sense of style or that he doesn't give a crap. He usually wears jeans and boots to work, but at home he wears whatever he can put his hands on first.

When I got to his house to pick him up, I had to stop and laugh. He was wearing a pair of purple running shorts, knee high tube socks, sandals, and a hot pink half-shirt. You could see his lily white bird legs and his beer gut was hanging out. It was funny if not totally disgusting.

Here's how our conversation went when I got there:

Me: Wow! Go get changed so we can go, goofball.

Jim: What? I don't need to change. Let's go.

Me: Yeah, right. Come on - quit jackin' around. Go change - we're running late.

Jim: Seriously, dude. I'm wearing this.

Me: Bullshit! You look like a fruit and we're going to meet a freakin' rancher. You can't be serious. There's no way you're riding in my truck dressed like that.

Jim: What's wrong with this? Shit! I'm comfortable and it's my day off. If that hayseed can't handle it, piss on him.

Me: Um... yeah... okay... you freak. Don't say I didn't warn you when he beats the shit out of you. Is that your shirt or your daughter's?

So, I let him get in my truck dressed like that and in about an hour or so we got to the guy's field. Damn! It was great! There were doves flying everywhere. There was a large stock tank that was full of water and plenty of trees for shade. I said, "This is perfect! Now let's see if we can negotiate a decent price."

I pulled up next the good ol' boy's pickup, stopped and jumped out to introduce myself, all the while praying that Jim would decide to just stay put in my truck. But, no dice. About the time I got the "howdy" out of my mouth, here comes fruit boy from the other side. When he stuck his hand out to shake Tex's hand, I thought, "This is going to be interesting."

Trying to keep the rancher's attention focused on me, I kept talking and asking him questions about the land, what kinds of restrictions he'd want to put in the lease, how much he wanted for it, and so on. I was hoping Jim would at least just keep his mouth shut and let me do the talking. Wrong again. Freddie Mercury Jr. had to pipe up every once in a while with some stupid question like "Do you have a lot trouble with game wardens coming around and harassing hunters?" I'm thinking, "Damn it, Sigfried. Just shut the fuck up."

But, it was kinda like trying to keep somebody from looking at a bad wreck. Tex kept looking over at Jim with this disgusted look. I could just about read this guy's mind. I'm sure he was wondering three things.

1) Who is this freak?

2) Why am I standing here talking to him?

3) Am I sure I want this weirdo on my property with a firearm?

After about 10 minutes, I told the guy I was very interested in the lease, but that I was a little overwhelmed by his asking price. I had leased similar property for a little more than half that much the year before. He said that was his price and he knew he could get it.

So, I told him thanks for meeting me and that I'd be in touch with him the next day. I ended up not getting the lease and I'm sure he jacked up his price to get rid of us. I was pissed. That was a great place and I know I could have gotten a reasonable deal if not for the freakazoid Jim in tow.

I told him when I dropped him off that he was not allowed in my truck anymore if that was the best he could do for attire. For some reason he got mad at me and walked off mumbling.

Oh well, c'est la vie.

posted by Dash | 1:45 PM | |

This is great! David Souter may be getting a taste of his own medicine.

Okay, everybody all together... Awwwwwwwwwwwwwww!

posted by Dash | 1:42 PM | |

I hope Dick Durbin reads stories like this one. If he can keep his over-inflated ego in check, as well as his seething hate of anything "Bush", maybe he'll realize what a buffoon he appears to be to most of us. But, I doubt it. He'll go on in his own little world of denial and deceit, looking for the next opportunity to slam the administration and the military at the same time. I just hope the voters remember this.


By James H. Warner
June 29, 2005

As a Marine Corps officer, I spent five years and five months in a prisoner of war camp in North Vietnam. I believe this gives me a benchmark against which to measure the treatment which Sen. Richard Durbin, Illinois Democrat, complained of at the Camp of Detention for Islamo-fascists at Guantanamo Bay, Cuba.

The senator's argument is silly. If he believes what he has said his judgment is so poor that his countrymen, assuming, of course, that he considers us his countrymen, have no reason not to dismiss him as a witless boob. On the other hand, if he does not believe what he said, the other members of the Senate may wish to consider censure.

Consider nutrition. I have severe peripheral neuropathy in both legs as a residual of beriberi. I am fortunate. Some of my comrades suffer partial blindness or ischemic heart disease as a result of beriberi, a degenerate disease of peripheral nerves caused by a lack of thiamin, vitamin B-1. It is easily treated but is extremely painful.

Did Mr. Durbin say that some of the Islamo-fascist prisoners are suffering from beriberi? Actually, the diet enjoyed by the prisoners seems to be healthy. I saw the menu that Rep. Duncan Hunter presented a few days ago. It looks as though the food given the detainees at Guantanamo is wholesome, nutritious and appealing. I would be curious to hear Mr. Durbin explain how orange glazed chicken and rice pilaf can be compared to moldy bread laced with rat droppings.

In May 1969, I was taken out for interrogation on suspicion of planning an escape. I was forced to remain awake for long periods of time -- three weeks on one occasion.

On the first of June, I was put in a cement box with a steel door, which sat out in the tropical summer sun. There, I was put in leg irons which were then wired to a small stool. In this position I could neither sit nor stand comfortably. Within 10 days, every muscle in my body was in pain (here began a shoulder injury which is now inoperable). The heat was almost beyond bearing. My feet had swollen, literally, to the size of footballs. I cannot describe the pain. When they took the leg irons off, they had to actually dig them out of the swollen flesh. It was five days before I could walk, because the weight of the leg irons on my Achilles tendons had paralyzed them and hamstrung me. I stayed in the box from June 1 until Nov. 10, 1969. While in the box, I lost at least 30 pounds. I would be curious to hear Mr. Durbin explain how this compares with having a female invade my private space, and whether a box in which the heat nearly killed me is the same as turning up the air conditioning.

The detainees at Guantanamo receive new Korans and prayer rugs, and the guards are instructed not to disturb the inmates' prayers. Compare this with my experience in February 1971, when I watched as armed men dragged from our cell, successively, four of my cell mates after having led us in the Lord's Prayer. Their prayers were in defiance of a January 1971 regulation in which the Communists forbade any religious observances in our cells. Does Mr. Durbin somehow argue that our behavior is the equivalent of the behavior of the Communists?

Actually, I was one of the lucky ones. At another camp, during the time I was being interrogated in the summer of 1969, one man was tortured to death and several were severely beaten. In fact, according to Headquarters Marine Corps, 20 percent of my fellow Marines failed to survive captivity. Have 20 percent of the Islamo-fascists failed to survive Guantanamo?

The argument that detainees at Guantanamo are being treated badly is specious and silly. In the eyes of normal Americans, Democrats believe this argument because, as Jeanne Kirkpatrick said 20 years ago, they "always blame America first." This contributes to the increasing suspicion, in red states, a problem that Democrats are aware of and are trying to counter, that Democrats cannot be trusted with our national security. Only the Democrats can change this perception, most recently articulated by White House adviser Karl Rove. The ball is in their court and I am certain there are steps that they can take to change this perception, but making silly arguments about imaginary bad treatment of enemy detainees is not a move in the right direction.

posted by Dash | 1:03 PM | |

Um... this could be a problem.

"Single malts are the only sector within the Scotch whisky category that has this shortage problem," says Ronnie Cox, director for Glenrothes International. "It is totally unprecedented and unforeseen. Neither past sales nor current projections had prepared us for this situation. Simply put, the industry -- Glenrothes included -- did not prepare for the proper amount of whisky stocks to be laid down for this type of boom."

posted by Dash | 3:05 PM | |

We came, we saw, we conquered. The 2005 Texas Hill Country Tunes, Toobs and Targets Blogmeet is in the books. All I can say is, Wow! It was a Hum-Dinger to say the least.

It began on Friday as ZiPpo and crew hit the port on Sycamore in New Braunfels. From there they ventured north to the famous Gristmill Restaurant in historic Gruene, Texas. After that was a short walk to Gruene Hall where they prepared to be entertained. It was there I met the crew. The ice-cold Shiner Bock was flowing freely and I had some catching up to do.

For warm-up was the rockabilly band called Sean Castillo and the Hubcaps out of San Antonio and the main event was top party band Buckwheat Zydeco from Lafayette, Louisiana. Those guys rocked the house with a little blues, cajun chank-a-chank, and zydeco music. It was great.

After the concert, the group met up at ZiPpo's forecastle for some whiskey slushes mixed with a little tunage and visitation. A good time was had by all deep into the wee hours of Saturday morning.

Roll call on Saturday was at 1100 hours on the main deck. There we made our plans for the "Big Float" down the Comal River. At approximately 1300 hours, our flotilla cast off from Landa Falls. Included were Captain ZiPpo and 13 hands. The supplies for the voyage included three coolers loaded with brew and assorted flavors of jello shots. The Jolly Roger was flying high above the mains'l of the cooler toob.

It was a great trip. The water was cool and sun was hot and everyone made it through the tube chute without any major mishaps. Even the coolers made the trip without any problems. We hit port at approximately 1600 hours. Then, we were shuttled back to Landa Falls where we retrieved our vehicles and headed back over to ZiPpo's place.

Once all the crew had dried out and settled in, we were satiated with some awesome food and drink. Then it was time for more visiting and listening to some good music both inside and out on the porch.

On Sunday, a group went out to an outside shooting range for a little target blasting. I was unable to make that trip, but I hear it was successful. I'm sure someone will be able to give a full report.

It was great to see everyone there. When I hear folks talk about what good people bloggers are, I think they're talking about these people. I hope I remember everyone, but if I don't, I'll blame it on the Mexican Martinis.

First order is to salute ZiPpo the Pirate and his lovely wife Stomps With Foot. ZiPpo was the perfect host offering his house in town as a base camp. How lucky we were to have a centrally located place to meet, hang out and for some folks to lay their weary heads. Thanks, ZiPpo! We really appreciate your hospitality. I enjoyed seeing your gorgeous daughter, son-in-law and beautiful granddaughter Saturday night. You have a great family. Thanks for sharing them with us.

El Capitan of Baboon Pirates was there. It was good to see you again, Cap. I hope next time we'll have more time to drink and visit. I'm so glad to hear your nephew is getting better. I'm sure you'll give us a report on the range trip.

Beth of Yeah, Right, Whatever was the ultimate cook during the entire weekend. Her beef and pork ribs, chicken, BBQ sauce, and orange cake were excellent. The mass quantities of whiskey slushes she brought were awesome, too. Thanks for all your hard work and great cooking. I'm glad the pit worked for you. Next time I'll bring my big pit and we'll get down to some more serious cooking. Maybe we'll do a whole pig with a couple of briskets for appetizers.

Lord Spatula of Spatula City offered a huge pot of his famous "Train Wreck Stew" that was also excellent. It was great meeting you, Spats. Hopefully next time we'll have more time to visit.

Denita and Eric of Who Tends the Fires were there. Wow! Two great people who are easy to talk to. I really enjoyed visiting with both of you. Denita, your Kahlua Pie was great! I'm glad you talked me into having some of that. It disappeared fast.

Mr. and Mrs. Minority and family came down. Talk about great people! All of them were as friendly as the day is long. Thanks for all the great conversation. I look forward to seeing y'all again.

A.J. (a.k.a. Humble Devil Dog) from Random Firings of Neurons came down. He's recently transplanted to central Texas from cheese country of Wisconsin. When we told him the water would be cold, he laughed and said, "If it's not below 58 degrees, it's not too cold." Great guy with a lot of great stories and sense of humor. It was a pleasure meeting you, A.J. I hope you find Texas to your liking and hope to see you again, too.

KurtP from A Trainwreck in Maxwell and his lovely wife from across the pond were there Friday night and had to go home Saturday morning before the river trip. It was great to finally meet you. I'm sorry I forgot you weren't going to be there on Saturday and didn't get a chance to say good-bye. You'll have to come back up here for a toobin' ride before the summer is over.

Last, but certainly not least, are two people who are not bloggers, but were instrumental in making the weekend a success. I'm talking about my man Stuart and the lovely and talented Jen. Stuart is ZiPpo's adopted son from way back, and Jen is ZiPpo's niece. What a family this guy has.

Stuart actually lives in the house we called base camp for the weekend. He was co-river guide and co-host in general. Stuart - you are the freakin' man! Jen was the mixer of the Mexican Martinis after the river ride. Wow! Those were some good drinks. If you do happen to read this, I want to say thanks for the bartending duties and the conversation. You're going to make someone a very lucky man one day.

Well, that almost sums it up. I could probably ramble on about the weekend for another hour, but you should get an idea how much of a good time we had. Next time, we'll do it even bigger.

posted by Dash | 9:50 AM | |

Who says nice guys finish last? The San Antonio Spurs claimed their 3rd NBA title in seven years and the party is on. The Spurs outlasted a very good and determined Detroit Pistons team who are the defending champions. Congratulations to the Pistons for winning the Eastern Division and taking the finals to seven games. They showed a lot of class in the tournament.

The City of San Antonio is sponsoring a Saturday celebration. Starting at 6 p.m. there will be a river parade with the Spurs addressing the crowd at the Arneson River Theater. Then at 9 p.m. there will be a community celebration at the Alamodome with the ceremonial presentation of the championship trophy.

I was never a big NBA fan until I moved to the San Antonio area about seven years ago. While I've always been a college sports fan, I always considered NBA players to be a bunch of overpaid thugs and I still do to an extent. The exception to that rule is the team they call the Spurs.

When I moved here, I noticed that the fans are about as rabid as anywhere else, but there was a little something different. The Spurs always had a reputation for being good people aside from being a good team. I think it all started with David Robinson.

Robinson set the tone for the rest of the team. He was (and still is) always very involved in the community. He has spent millions of his own money building libraries, museums, churches and schools. Although San Antonio is a large city, it is not the most affluent, and the contributions of Robinson never went unnoticed or unappreciated.

This attitude has spilled over to other players on the team, too. For example, I don't think there is one player on the team who doesn't actually live in San Antonio and stay actively involved in the community. I doubt there are many other teams that can say that.

Another thing I noticed when the Spurs won their first championship in '99, was the fact that the fans didn't burn down the city and there was no looting or vandalization afterwards. How many times do we hear about fans going crazy and destroying their own city after winning a title? This doesn't happen here. The fans are excited and like to party, but they aren't destructive in doing so. I'm proud of that fact.

So, congratulations to the Spurs for winning another championship. You are proof that nice guys can and do finish first. You've made the city even more proud than they already were.

posted by Dash | 12:30 PM | |

Here's a perspective from Iraq you won't hear from the MSM.

Contrary to the impression given by most newspaper headlines, the United States has won the day in Iraq. In 2004, our military fought fierce battles in Najaf, Fallujah, and Sadr City. Many thousands of terrorists were killed, with comparatively little collateral damage. As examples of the very hardest sorts of urban combat, these will go down in history as smashing U.S. victories.

And our successes at urban combat (which, scandalously, are mostly untold stories in the U.S.) made it crystal clear to both the terrorists and the millions of moderate Iraqis that the insurgents simply cannot win against today’s U.S. Army and Marines. That’s why everyday citizens have surged into politics instead.

Increasingly, the Iraqi people are taking direction of their own lives. And like all other self-ruling populations, they are more interested in improving the quality of their lives than in mindless warring. It will take some time, but Iraq has begun the process of becoming a normal country.

Funny. All I hear is how we're losing the war.

posted by Dash | 11:35 AM | |

I agree with Hillary.

WHAT!?! Did I really say that? Believe me, it's a first and the words didn't want to come from my lips. In fact, my mouth is so mad at my brain right now, it's threatening a hunger strike just out of general principles.

What brought this on, you ask? The House of Representatives has passed a constitutional amendment that would bar desecration of the U. S. Flag.

At first glance, I say yes, that's a good idea. But, after some thought, I say no, bad idea. Personally, I think people who burn Old Glory should be dragged off and shot. But, do we really want to start taking away people's freedom of political speech?

After making my way through the ire, I realized that nine times out of ten, the flag burner is making a political statement. Do we really want to stop people from making political statements? Further, do we need an amendment which stops people from making political statements?

I know this is a very emotional issue, but when in doubt, I have to come down on the side of freedom. Political speech is a freedom we have that I don't think we need to try to ban. Once we ban one type of political speech, what's next?

What say you?

posted by Dash | 10:03 AM | |

I'm still chipping away at the pile of crap that accumulated while I was on vacation last week. It's amazing. When you take a vacation, you think you're going to just relax and pick up where you left off. But, when you get back, you have to spend 75% of your time trying to catch up.

I'm still going through e-mails and faxes that piled up in my in-boxes. Maybe by the end of the week, I'll be caught up enough to be able to take off this weekend for the Texas Hill Country Blogmeet. I'm looking forward to seeing and partying with those folks.

While I was on vacation, I posted about my lovely and talented spousal unit getting me some choice cigars for an early Father's Day present. I have enjoyed sitting on my deck in the evenings with a smoke and a glass of rare whisky. It's a great way to wind down from a busy and hectic day and just enjoy some conversation with her. I have to admit, I'm a lucky sumbitch when it comes to having a wife who really likes to spend time with me and talk with me about things. I don't know how she does it all - really. If she happens to read this, I hope she understands how much I appreciate her.

On the subject of cigars - I'm not what you'd call an expert, but I do enjoy a good smoke every now and then. I smoked cigarettes when I was younger, but never really became addicted. I considered myself to be a social smoker. I only liked to smoke when I was with other smokers and then usually only if I was partaking in an adult beverage. They just kind of went well together and I was in good enough physical shape to be able to handle the occasional smoke.

After a while, I just said this is stupid. Why am I doing this? I don't really enjoy it that much. So, I quit. I never even think about smoking during the day - especially if I'm not around it. There are no smokers in my office, so it's not something I even come across unless I get out to the field. But, if I'm having a beer or cocktail and happen to be in the company of smokers, I will usually bum one or two.

Cigarettes are pretty generic to me. But, cigars are in another league. I've smoked some of the plain old common everyday cigars and I've had some choice high-dollar cigars, too. Obviously, the choice ones are much better, but how do you select a fine cigar when there are so many choices? I'm sure some of you are like me and have asked yourself this question when shopping for cigars either for yourself or someone who might enjoy it.

Cigars provide a variety of shapes, sizes, aromas, colors and tastes. The choice of the cigar depends on the mood and the taste of the individual smoker. Some may prefer a stronger, full-bodied, maduro cigar, while others like a milder one.

When choosing a cigar, first determine which type matches your smoking occasion. For example, if you are planning to smoke one during a round of golf, you might pick a larger cigar. Or, if you just want a quick smoke after a nice dinner, or maybe with a cocktail, you might want
one that is smaller in stature. Regardless, you should keep in mind that you will enjoy a premium cigar more if you take the time to appreciate the quality of the workmanship, taste and aroma.

Different sizes and shapes of cigars are measured by length and diameter. They typically range in length from 2-1/2 to 9 inches. Cigars can vary in diameter, or ring gauge, from the size of a cigarette to the size of a half dollar. Popular sizes are churchill (7 inches long with a 50 ring gauge), corona (5.5 x 42), and toro (6 x 50).

The different sizes determine certain characteristics of the cigar such as the length of time it will take to smoke and the ease in drawing smoke through the cigar. Typically, the larger the ring gauge, the easier the cigar will draw.

The wrapper and filler have the most impact on the taste. The wrapper is the thin outer layer which holds the tobacco together. Cigar wrappers come in a variety of colors ranging from the darker (maduro) to a lighter (natural) shade.

The tobacco used for the filler has the largest impact on taste. The filler is made from a combination of different varieties of tobacco leaves that are blended together. Filler is usually categorized as either short or long. The long filler is typically associated with well-made cigars.

The last thing to consider when choosing a cigar is price. Cigars can range in price from less than a dollar to more than 100 dollars each. Prices depend heavily upon whether the cigar was hand-made or machine-made. Hand-made cigars require more work and attention to detail, while machine-made ones are usually mass produced.

Your budget and how often you smoke will determine your price range. But, don't automatically think that the more expensive the cigar, the better it must be. Everyone's tastes are different and you might enjoy a 5 dollar cigar more than you would a 20 dollar one. You'll just have to experiment and smoke a lot of different ones to determine which ones are right for you.

Try several different brands and sizes and soon you'll find the right combination for you.

posted by Dash | 4:00 PM | |

The lovely Tammi of Tammi's World had seen fit to tag yours truly for another meme. Although it's known that I don't cotton to such things, this one is actually not too bad. And I do appreciate Tammi thinking of me. So, for her, I'll see what this tired old brain can conjure up.

"Five things society at large enjoys, but that I just don't get..."

1. Those little Calvin cartoon stickers on back windshields that are pissing on (whatever). How old do you have to be to consider that to be fairly juvenile? Hey look everybody, my sticker says "Piss on Ford." Oh yeah? Well, mine says "Piss on Chevy." Take that! While we're talking about stickers, what about the Hispanic people who have their names across their back window... in Olde English lettering? Huh?

2. Obsession with celebrity trials. Every time I would see Michael Jackson or Martha Stewart in court, I'd want to puke. These are people who tried to get away with something because they thought they were larger than the law. Lock 'em up and don't tell me about it every ten minutes, already.

3. Rap or Hip-Hop Music. I know everyone doesn't like this kind of music, but it seems like it's getting bigger. What's the interest? I don't see how it can even be considered music. All I see is some guy in oversized clothes yelling and grabbing his Willie Johnson. What up wit dat?

4. Neckties. Isn't it time we just got rid of these? What purpose do they serve other than to make you completely uncomfortable and catch tomato sauce?

5. Reality shows. Who in his right mind wants to watch the inane antics of the likes of Ozzy Osbourne (and weird family) or Anna Nicole? I'd rather watch Adam Sandler light farts.

There you have it.

Now to pass this on to some more unsuspecting folks. How about:

Sadie at Fistful of Fortnights
Phin at Phin's Blog
Amelie at For a Breath I Tarry
Bitterman at Smoking Toaster
El Capitan at Baboon Pirates

posted by Dash | 7:15 PM | |

This article by Mark Steyn is so good, I'm going to post the entire thing. This is the kind of rhetoric we have coming from our Democratic leaders these days. Shame, shame.

Throughout the last campaign season, senior Democrats' speeches included a standard line, usually delivered with righteous anger, about how "nobody has a right to question my patriotism." Given that nobody questioned their patriotism, it seemed an odd thing to harp on about.

But, aware of their touchiness on the subject, I hasten to add that in what follows I am not questioning Sen. Dick Durbin's patriotism, at least not for the first couple of paragraphs. Instead, I'll begin by questioning his sanity.

Last Tuesday, Mr. Durbin, Illinois Democrat, quoted a report of U.S. "atrocities" at Guantanamo and then added:

"If I read this to you and did not tell you that it was an FBI agent describing what Americans had done to prisoners in their control, you would most certainly believe this must have been done by Nazis, Soviets in their gulags, or some mad regime -- Pol Pot or others -- that had no concern for human beings."

Er, well, your average low-wattage senator might. But I wouldn't. The "atrocities" he enumerated -- "Not only was the temperature unbearably hot, but extremely loud rap music was being played in the room" -- are not characteristic of the Nazis, the Soviets or Pol Pot, and, at the end, the body count in Gitmo was a lot lower. That's to say, it was zero, which would have been counted a poor day's work in Auschwitz or Siberia or the killing fields of Cambodia.

But give Mr. Durbin credit. Every third-rate hack on every European newspaper can do the Americans-are-Nazis shtick. Amnesty International has already declared Guantanamo the "gulag of our times." But I do believe the senator is the first to compare the U.S. armed forces with the blood-drenched thugs of Pol Pot's Khmer Rouge. Way to go, Senator. If you had a dime for every crackpot Web site that takes up your thoughtful historical comparison, you would be able to retire to the Caribbean and spend the rest of your days torturing yourself with hot weather and loud music, as well as inappropriately provocative women and insufficient choice of hors d'oeuvre and all the other shameful atrocities at Guantanamo.

Just for the record, some 15 million to 30 million Soviets died in the gulag; some 6 million Jews died in the Nazi camps; some 2 million Cambodians -- one-third of the country's population -- died in the killing fields. Nobody's died in Gitmo, not even from having Christina Aguilera played to them excessively loudly. The comparison is deranged, and deeply insulting not just to the U.S. military but to the millions of relatives of those dead Russians, Jews and Cambodians, who, unlike Mr. Durbin, know what real atrocities are.

Had Mr. Durbin said, "Why, these atrocities are so terrible you would almost believe it was an account of the activities of my distinguished colleague Robert C. Byrd's fellow Klansmen," that would have been a little closer to the ballpark but still way out.

One measure of a civilized society is that words mean something: "Soviet" and "Nazi" and "Pol Pot" cannot equate to Guantanamo unless you're utterly unmoored from reality.

Spot the odd one out: (1) mass starvation, (2) gas chambers, (3) mountains of skulls, (4) lousy infidel pop music at full volume. One of these is not the same as the others, and Mr. Durbin doesn't have the excuse of being some airhead celeb or an Ivy League professor. He's the Senate Judiciary Committee's second-ranking Democrat. Don't they have an insanity clause?

Now let us turn to the ranking Democrat, the big cheese on the committee, Sen. Patrick Leahy of Vermont. Mr. Leahy thinks Gitmo must be closed and argues as follows:

"America was once very rightly viewed as a leader in human rights and the rule of law, but Guantanamo has drained our leadership, our credibility, and the world's good will for America at alarming rates."

So, until Guantanamo, America was "viewed as a leader in human rights"? Not in 2004, when Abu Ghraib was the atrocity du jour. Not in 2003, when every humanitarian organization on the planet predicted the deaths of millions of Iraqis from cholera, dysentery and other diseases due to America's "war for oil." Not in 2002, when the "human rights" lobby filled the streets of Vancouver and London and Rome and Sydney to protest the Bushitler plans to end the benign reign of good King Saddam. Not the weekend before September 11, 2001, when the human-rights grandees of the U.N. "anti-racism" conference met in South Africa to demand America pay reparations for the Rwandan genocide and to cheer Robert Mugabe to the rooftops for calling on Britain and America to "apologize unreservedly for their crimes against humanity."

If you close Gitmo tomorrow, the world's anti-Americans will look around and within 48 hours light on something else for Gulag of theWeek.

And this is where it's time to question Mr. Durbin's patriotism. As Mr. Leahy implicitly acknowledges, Guantanamo is about "image" and "perception" -- about how others see America. If this one small camp of a few hundred people has "drained the world's good will," whose fault is that?

The senator from Illinois' comparisons are as tired as they're grotesque. They add nothing useful to the debate. But around the planet folks naturally figure that, if only 100 people out of nearly 300 million get to be senators, the position must be a big deal. Hence, headlines in the Arab world like "U.S. senator stands by Nazi remark." That's al Jazeera, where the senator from al-Inois is now a big hero -- for slandering his own country, for confirming the lurid propaganda of its enemies. Yes, folks, American soldiers are Nazis and U.S. prison camps are gulags. Don't take our word for it, Sen. Bigshot says so.

This isn't a Republican versus Democrat thing; it's about senior Democrats who are so over-invested in their hatred of a passing administration that they've signed on to the nuttiest slurs of the lunatic fringe.

It would be heartening to think Mr. Durbin will himself now be subjected to some serious torture. Not real torture, of course; I don't mean using Pol Pot techniques and playing the Celine Dion Christmas album really loud to him.

But he should at least be made a little uncomfortable about what he's done -- in a time of war, making an inflammatory libel against his country's military that has no value whatever except to America's enemies. Shame on him, and shame on those fellow senators and Democrats who by their refusal to condemn him endorse his slander.

posted by Dash | 3:06 PM | |

My friend Yabu at Bad Bad Juju has a post up on Anger Management. He's talking about a time he was playing golf and saw a guy get so mad, he threw his golf bag into a lake. That guy must have been plenty mad to do that, especially considering how much clubs can cost.

Golf is a game that will test your ability to deal with absolute frustration. Just to watch the pros hit the ball almost effortlessly makes you think it can't be that difficult. Unless you play, you can't really appreciate the difficulty.

Obviously, just as with most things that require hand-eye coordination, there are going to be some people who have an innate ability to make good clean contact with that little white ball without a lot of training or practice. Those are rare. Most of us struggle to put more than three good shots together at any given time. The only thing consistent about my game is its inconsistency.

When I first started playing, I was a bit of a hothead when I hit a bad shot. I was prone to cuss a lot and throw clubs. The problem was that I was always a pretty good athlete and didn't accept the fact that I couldn't be as good at golf as I was at other sports.

Over the years, I guess I mellowed a little and finally accepted that I was not going to be able to spend the time needed to become what I would call a "good" golfer. I developed an understanding that if I wanted to have fun while playing, I'd have to take the bad shots with the good. Today, as little as I actually get to play, I'm just really happy to be able to hit any good shots at all. I can usually hold my own on the course with guys in my situation, but it sure would be nice to be able to go out there and shoot a par round every once in a while.

Although I've come to grips with my own ineptitude in golf, I still witness a lot of anger out there. It's hard to keep from laughing at these folks. But I don't. That usually only makes matters worse.

I wish I had a dollar for every cuss word I've heard, every club I've seen thrown, every club I've seen broken, and every time I've heard someone declare that he had officially quit.

Some folks I know have developed a pretty good sense of humor about the frustration of it all. I can usually laugh off a rather stinky shot, but my Dad has become almost superstitious. Several years ago, he started this little ritual. Any time he is about to hit a critical shot over or near a water hazard, he will take an old ball out of his bag and just throw it into the water. He says it is an offering to the golf gods and that if they're going to get one of his balls, it's going to be an old one and not count against his score. Sometimes it works and sometimes not. I think it is a mental game he plays with himself anyway.

One way I've been able to minimize the frustration and maximize the fun factor is to play in Scrambles. A Scramble is a format that keeps everything simple and doesn't penalize the average to bad players. In a foursome, everyone hits from the tee box. Then the best of the four shots is picked for the team of four players to hit from. Everyone hits from that location and so on until the ball is holed. This format lends itself to some really low scores and usually everyone on the team can contribute.

Golf can be infuriating for people with the wrong attitude and it can be pleasurable if you take it for what it is - a game that is supposed to be fun.

I think blogging is very similar. In my opinion, it's supposed to be fun. But, there are always those out there who take it and themselves way too seriously. Whether from jealousy or just plain old assholeishness (I know that's not a real word, I just like it), some people vent their frustrations by denegrating the work of others. They do this instead of using their talents to do good things and have fun with it.

Just as I don't really like to play golf with guys who throw temper tantrums after every bad shot, I don't like to read blogs that tear down good people for no reason other than blatant jealousy. Yeah, maybe it's all for the shock factor, but there's no room for it in my world. That sounds selfish, but I do this for fun and life's too freakin' short to worry about that kind of crap.

One day, I'm going to have to quit playing golf. There's going to come a time when it's not fun anymore. The same thing can be said for blogging. I hope that day doesn't come for a long time for either one.

Hit 'em straight.

posted by Dash | 12:00 PM | |

Mostly Cajun has an excellent post up on minimum wage. He's been around the block more than a couple of times, so he knows the real score.

Let me clue some folks in: The minimum wage was not MEANT to be a living wage. It’s an entry-level wage for entry-level jobs. If you’re an adult and you can’t get out of a minimum wage job, you’ve got some serious issues, like not knowing how to act on a job, or not bothering with niceties like a high school diploma. Around here you have to be pretty darned “unfortunate” to hang onto a minimum wage job as an adult. You do a few simple things like show up every day and act like you care about the job you’re doing, and before long somebody gives you a pay raise.

I had this post about the subject a few months ago and I stand by it. The answer is not artificially raising the minimum wage by bureaucrats. It's getting an education and working hard. Tanker has it right.

posted by Dash | 9:43 PM | |

While taking a much needed break from my busy vacation, I was reading some of my regulars and stumbled upon this gem. Beth at My Vast Right Wing Conspiracy never minces words, but this one is really to the point.

Everyone deserves a good rant every once in a while. Go check this one out. As Sam would say, she's "downtown" with this one.

Here are some samples:

#16. Bloggers who “quit” and then return soon afterwards. If you’re going to quit, just fuckin’ DO it, already. Otherwise, you’re taking a BREAK.

#22. Too many bloggers that take themselves and their blogging activity too seriously.

Hat Tip to Basil's Blog.

posted by Dash | 9:08 PM | |

I've been reading a lot on the subject lately, but Blackfive has an excellent post up on the terrorist detainees at Gitmo. This guy is good! Go read the whole story.

Hat Tip to Average Joe at Cadillac Tight. (This guy is good, too! If you don't have him on your daily read list yet, you need to.)

posted by Dash | 4:20 PM | |

For the six of you who regularly come by here, you're aware that I've not been around lately. Actually, I've been around, but I'm on vacation. It's the first one of the year, so I was due. Five months with no days off will start to wear on you. I know there are a lot of folks who never get more than weekends off, so I should count my blessings. I've been at my current job long enough to get three weeks of paid leave each year. The problem is finding the time to take off and then coordinating it with the rest of the family.

This week off is being spent... working. But, it's a very different type of work. I started a major landscaping project at the Dash Cave and although it's back-breaking work, it's somewhat cathartic.

This past weekend I spread 300 cubic yards of dirt on my lot. That was mainly to bring the grade up a bit and to cover up some rocks that were getting in my way. Now, I'm doing some rock work. I had 11 tons of flagstone delivered for patios and tree wells in the back yard. I'm gaining more respect for the masons who work in this weather every day. This weekend I'm having another 100 cubic yards of topsoil delivered along with about 20 pallets of bermuda sod. That should keep me busy for a while. If I run out of work, I have tons more natural limestone rocks in the front yard that need to be relocated.

One benefit of doing the majority of the work myself is saving money on the labor. Another is sweating the toxins out of my pores that were put there the previous night. That's right. After each day of toiling in the 96 degree sun, I've been rewarding myself with some high grade whisky and fine imported cigars.

Father's Day came a week early for me this year. My darling, beautiful, smart and sexy wife bought me some excellent smokes along with my first humidor. I don't quite know what I did to deserve that, but I'm not going to rock the boat by asking. My kids think I'm crazy for sitting out on the deck at dusk after a full meal, smoking and imbibing. I tell them I'm on vacation and I can do whatever I want to. So far they're buying it.

Well, it's time for me to go pick the smoke of the day and pour that first drink. The Spurs game comes on at 8, so I have plenty of time to kick back and relax after another hot day.

I think in the morning I'll make an appointment with the chiropractor for a tune up before I get back to work on Monday. I'm just hoping I can still walk by then.

Go Spurs!

posted by Dash | 4:03 PM | |

What is Texas music? Ask most people outside Texas and they might say Willie Nelson or Ray Wiley Hubbard. They'd be right except they'd be missing out on a lot of good music.

It used to be that Nashville was the only place to go to be able get noticed. Nowadays central Texas is the place. One of the most recent up and comers is Kevin Fowler.

Nashville is still Music City, USA, so if you want national exposure and a major record deal, that's where you go. Kevin Fowler has four CD's out. The first three were made here in Texas and sold extremely well here. But, the last one "Loose, Loud & Crazy" was cut in Nashville.

Kevin fowler was raised in Amarillo, Texas, growing up on a diverse musical diet including everything from Merle Haggard to Metallica, and Dwight Yoakum to AC/DC. Dwight was probably his biggest influence.

After graduating from high school in the mid eighties, Kevin packed everything he owned in the back of an old Nissan pickup and headed for LA to study at the Guitar Institute of Technology.

As all great Texas artists seem to do, he returned home about a year later and landed in Austin, playing guitar for the hard rocking group called "Dangerous Toys", who recorded a couple of albums (one of which went gold) and were included in the MTV video stable in the late 80's and early 90's. After Dangerous Toys, Fowler started another rock band called "Thunderfoot", with a lean towards Southern Rock.

Being back in Texas kept taking Kevin back to his roots, and finally he gave in to the calling from his younger days in Amarillo. He found himself writing more and more songs with a country flavor. Kevin formed a country band and began making the rounds in Austin. He developed a local fan base and the rest, as they say, is history.

Kevin is a prolific performer and his favorite gigs are the dance halls scattered all across the state. He routinely plays places like Billy Bob's in Ft. Worth, Old Coupland Dance Hall, Floore's Country Store in Helotes, and my favorite, Gruene Hall in Gruene, Texas. He loves playing for a group that loves to come out to drink, dance and have a good time.

Check out other great Texas artists at Lonestar Music.

posted by Dash | 7:15 AM | |

The Feisty Christina has come up with another Friday Fiction challenge. Does that girl ever stop thinking up new ways to write?

The concept is simple. A brief scenario or sketch is presented, then interpreted by each of the writers who, in turn, write a short story based on the sketch that is not to exceed 1,000 words.

At first blush a thousand words might seem a daunting task, but I think most will find it somewhat challenging to tell a story, his or her story, well within that thousand words. A thousand words typically takes up two typed pages.

On Fridays, I will showcase a blurb from each of the writers with links directly to their stories. I anticipate it will be incredible to read how very different each of the storylines will unfold. I'm very excited about this project and hope you are, too.

Here are the scenarios and line ups for Friday, June 10 and Friday June 17.

Group I - June 10th

Group of kids are playing a pick up game. The ball flies over the fence into the forbidden lands. The smallest child is "elected" to squeeze through a couple of loose boards in the fence. With apprehension, the child goes to retrieve the ball.

1. Konstantin - Dystropoppygus
2. That 1 Guy - Drunken Wisdom
3. Guy S. - Snugg Harbor
4. Joe - Cadillac Tight
5. Dash - The Boiling Point

Group II - June 17th

A person gets on a subway then nods off only to waken just before the appointed stop. When this person exits the station, the surroundings are completely unrecognizable. Individual then realizes he/she had not seen another human since getting on the train.

6. Silk - Just Breathe
7. Margi - Margi Lowry
8. Amelie - for a breath i tarry
9. Tincanman - The Tincanman
10. Velociman - Velociworld
10A. Sadie -Fistful of Fortnights

Without further ado, here's my story.

Survival in the Projects

Nearly every day after school, six boys from the neighborhood would get together for a ball game. Between the ages of eight and eleven, they all loved baseball passionately.

Theirs was a typical inner-urban neighborhood. The kind of area the rich people from the "right" side of the tracks called "the projects." Drive-by shootings and police sirens were the norm in this neighborhood. Unfortunately, it wasn’t unusual for a game to be cut short by a gang fight in the schoolyard.

The boys just dealt with the violence. After all, what could they do about it? They were just kids. The two things that kept them going were their love of sports and their dogged determination not to get involved with the gangs or drugs. They made a pact that they would do whatever they could to rid their neighborhood of the vermin so other kids could have a place to play in safety.

One afternoon, Scotty, the biggest one and the obvious leader of the group, hit a home run that was farther than any of them had ever seen. It cleared the fence in far right field and flew into the yard nobody had ever gone into before. After the jubilation of the thundering shot had worn down, the kids realized the ball was as good as gone.

It was the only ball these boys had. They were distraught thinking they weren't going to be able to play again until somebody could come up with another ball. These kids were poor and their parents couldn't afford to just go out and buy them a new ball every day. So they walked over to the fence where the ball had crossed and Scotty said, "Why don't we just go over there and get it?" The other kids looked at him like he had completely lost his marbles.

Another said, "You know we can't do that. None of our parents will let us go into that yard. That house has been condemned for as long as any of us has been alive. I'm not going over there."

Scotty said, "Well, we need that ball and I say one of us is going to get it. We'll draw straws to see who gets to go." Nobody wanted to go against him, so they drew straws and Little Jake drew the short straw.

Jake was the smallest of the group, but he was the toughest next to Scotty. The kids called him "Scrap Iron" because he reminded them of one of their favorite big league players, Phil Garner.

With straw in hand, Jake said, "Fine, I'll go over there. I ain't scared. Besides, that's my ball and if I don't come home with it, my daddy will give me a good whipping." So, the boys found a small hole in the fence and Little Jake scurried through it like a gopher in soft dirt.

Scotty said, "Good luck Little Man. We'll be here when you come back. But, hurry up - I can't be late for supper and it's getting late." The other boys echoed his sentiments and wondered how long it would take him to find the ball.

Jake made his way through the underbrush that hadn't been cleared or mowed in years and saw a wall to an old run down house with a shattered window. The house was in desperate need of a can of gas and a match. It was a public nuisance the rest of the town had just written off.

Jake eased up to the window and took a peek inside. Under his breath he said, "Holy shit! There are people inside." He had always heard about these kinds of places, but had never actually seen one. This was a Crack House.

Feeling uneasy, Jake thought it was time for him to start looking for that ball when he heard the distinct "click" of the hammer being pulled back on a pistol. He slowly looked up and looked right down the barrel. He heard, "Well, what do we have here?"

"What are you doing here, you little shit?" the guy asked. "Don’t you know this place is off limits to little peckerwoods like you?" Just then another goon stepped from behind the corner of the house. Hidden by the brush, Jake could just make out the silhouette of the guy. He was big and he had a gun, too. Little Jake started wondering what they were going to do to him.

Just as he was about to make a run for the hole in the fence, he heard a voice on a bullhorn. "Drop your weapons and hit the ground! You're surrounded! This is the police!" Then he heard other policemen running into the house to bust the little party that was going on. He was witnessing a real live drug bust.

After all the dust settled and the bad guys had been loaded up and taken away, Jake walked out to the street in front of the house. There waiting for him were his parents and all of his friends. The police chief came up to him and said, "Son, I don't know what you were doing in there, but thanks for distracting those two guys for us. Without that, we would never have been able to get into the building and make the raid."

Jake was proud. He had done his part to help make his neighborhood safer for his friends and his little brother who would one day play baseball in that same schoolyard. Everyone else was proud, too.

Sometime later when the boys were playing a game in the schoolyard, a patrol car drove up to where they were playing. It was the police chief and he said, “I heard you boys might need a new baseball. He opened up his trunk and pulled out a box of 12 brand new baseballs, two bats, and six new gloves. “Here you go, boys! You’ve earned them."

posted by Dash | 5:20 AM | |

Amelie, my adopted lil sis has the temerity to tag her big bro, your truly. Everybody knows I'm not really the meme type; but, for just her, I'll give it a shot.

Five Things I Miss From Childhood:

1. Playing Sports: When I was a kid, I played some kind of sport every single day it wasn't raining. If it was raining we played pool, pingpong, foosball, etc. I can't even list all the sports I played. I think I played everything except hockey and that was because we had no ice in Louisiana. We did play street hockey, though.

2. Hunting and Fishing with my Grandaddy: He was a farmer, so he had winters off. We hunted every game animal and fished for every fish in the state. He knew all the great places to go, too. We also used to go frog giggin'.

3. My Mom's Cooking: When I was a kid, my mother used to cook a lot. We had a fairly big family and didn't go out to eat that much, so my mom would cook all kinds of good stuff. She could cook anything and it would be delicious. She's still around, but doesn't cook as much and we live about three hours away.

4. Eating a lot: When I was a kid I could eat as much as I wanted to and never gain an ounce. (Probably because I was playing sports all the time.) I loved and still love to eat. But, now I have to be more judicious. Otherwise, the spare tire could begin to self-inflate.

5. Muscle Cars: When I was a kid, power was in and gas was cheap. Detroit was making cars like the GTO, Chevelle, Charger, Corvette, Mustang, Barracuda, Firebird and Camaro. Those were the days.

The rules:

Remove the #1 item from the following list, bump everyone up one place and add your blog's name in the #5 spot and link to each of the blogs.

Pirate's Cove
Fistful of Fortnights
Just Breathe
for a breath i tarry
The Boiling Point

Next, select four unsuspecting victims, list and link to them.

I'm gonna skip this part. I'm sure everybody I know has already done this and if you haven't, but want to, please feel free. I know, I know, I'm a party pooper. So sue me.

UPDATE: I got tagged by my buddy Sam at The Brier Patch. He slapped the shit outta me, but I didn't feel it.

posted by Dash | 8:05 PM | |

My girlfriend and I had been dating for over a year when we decided to get married. My parents helped us in every way and my friends encouraged me. My girlfriend? She was a dream! There was only one thing bothering me. That one thing was her younger sister.

My prospective sister-in-law was twenty years of age, wore tight miniskirts, and low cut blouses. She would regularly bend down when near me and I got many a pleasant view of her underwear. It had to be deliberate. She never did it when she was near anyone else.

One day little sister calls and asked me to come over to check the wedding invitations. She was alone when I arrived.

She whispered to me that soon I was to be married and she had feelings and desires for me that she could not overcome and did not really want to overcome. She told me that she wanted to make love to me just once before I got married and committed my life to her sister.

I was in total shock and could not say a word.

She said "I'm going upstairs to my bedroom and if you want to go ahead with it just come up and get me."I was stunned. I was frozen in shock as I watched her go up the stairs. When she reached to top, she pulled down her panties and threw them down the stairs at me.

I stood there for a moment then turned and went straight to the front door. I opened the door and stepped out of the house and walked straight toward my car.

My future father-in-law was standing outside. With tears in his eyes he hugged me and said "We are very happy you have passed our little test. We could not ask for a better man for our daughter. Welcome to the family!"

The moral of this story is...


Always keep your condoms in your car.


From the morning's e-mailbag. H/T to Larry.

posted by Dash | 3:01 PM | |

80 Year Old Granny Ran Prostitution Ring

When they were talking about the world's oldest profession, I didn't know they meant it literally. This woman was running prostitutes out of her apartment.

She said she needed the money to supplement her Social Security check.

Undercover police first began to wonder about the age of their suspect when they called the escort service as part of their sting operation. They said she seemed to have difficulty breathing.

"You get a feel for how old someone is when you talk to them," State Police Detective Sgt. Thomas Cornely told The Sunday Star-Ledger of Newark. "She sounded like an 80-year-old woman."

She sounded like an 80-year old woman because she was one. I guess she figured they wouldn't throw her in jail at her age, so she took a chance. The money was good after all.

What do you think? Should she go to jail?

posted by Dash | 6:18 AM | |

This week The Demystifying Divas and The Mens Club are discussing whether or not it is acceptable to date a friend's ex. There appears to be a myriad of opinions on the subject and I have to come down on the side of, "yes" it is acceptable.

Of course there are some caveats to this. Even if you consider your friend to be open-minded about such matters, you will run the risk of losing said friend... forever. Maybe that's a chance you are willing to take if it means finding the mate of your dreams. Hey, maybe it was fate that you met your future spouse through your friend. Who knows how these things happen?

While never personally experiencing this phenomenon, I have several good friends who have. When I was a young buck in college, I decided a good way for me to make friends with common interests was to join a fraternity. I know they're not for everyone, but it worked out pretty well for me. I developed some lifelong friendships that I wouldn't trade away for anything today.

One of the by-products of being in an organization like that was that girlfriends were occasionally broken up with by one of the brothers only to be picked up by another. It wasn't ever done out of malice, but it happened.

I can remember some hard feelings every now and then and there were definitely times of extreme awkwardness, especially if the exes happened to cross paths again. The prevailing sentiment was that it was okay to date a brother's ex if it was obvious that the relationship was over and there was no animosity from either side.

We tried to consider ourselves as mature adults who could deal with it. I don't know if the fact that we considered ourselves to be brothers and therefore having a tighter bond than mere friends had anything to do with it, but I never heard of any real problems.

Several of my brothers ended up marrying girls who once dated other brothers. Sometimes after a few drinks, someone might mention it, but usually the subject never comes up. Now after more than 20 years, it's just part of one's past that doesn't need to be brought up. We can all still be great friends.

Go see what Chrissy, Sadie, Kathy, Silk, Kelley, Wizard, Phin, Puffy, and Smallholder are saying about it. Whew! That's a lot of opinions.

posted by Dash | 3:23 PM | |

I went out of town this weekend to meet up with some old friends. Every year a group of guys who were fraternity brothers in college get together for a weekend of fun. This year we met in Houston which happens to be where several of the guys live.

This year's group had the biggest turnout of any prior year. We had 30 guys there. People came from all over including Chicago, St. Louis, Atlanta, Williamsburg, Orlando, New Orleans, Baton Rouge, Lafayette, Beaumont, Dallas, Austin, and of course Houston.

We met at Minute Maid Park on Friday night to take in an Astros game. It was against the Cardinals, so Will from St. Louis was the only happy guy at the end of the game. To pay him back, we made him buy the first round of pitchers after the game.

Saturday morning we had a golf tournament. It was a scramble format and we all chipped in some money for some prizes for the winners. It was hot and most of us were feeling the after effects from the night before, but we had a blast. It was a lot of fun to get out there and play golf with those guys. Out of six teams, my team came in third. We finished at two under par which usually won't get you any prize money in a scramble, but this was a really hard course and the greens weren't in the best condition. They had just been aerated and we would have had better luck putting on a gravel road.

We gave ourselves a lot of chances to score though. Out of 18 holes, we were putting for 16 birdies. We only made two. Oh well. Everyone had the same problems we did. The winning team only beat us by two strokes. and the second place team beat us by one stroke. So, it was a very competitive round. For third place, we won our entry money back.

After the golf and the distribution of the prizes, we got cleaned up and headed over the the house of one of the guys. He had a pool party with a keg of beer and a Mexican feast. After all that we sat down for a night of cards. I usually play Poker, but 95% of these guys are from Louisiana, so we played Bourre'. It's a great game and we had a blast. I won about 40 bucks, so I was a happy camper.

The thing that struck me about the whole weekend was that there seemed to be a common bond between us. We were friends in college, but that's been over 20 years ago. We've all gone on to have families and careers, but we all really enjoyed being in each others' company. It was a lot of fun to reminisce, tell stories, jokes, etc.

On my drive home yesterday afternoon, I was thinking about how cool it is to have friends like that. We always cherish our families and relatives; but, how often do we think about how lucky we are to have close friends who we genuinely care about?

I would not hesitate to have any of those 30 people and their families as guests in my home and I'm sure they would extend the same invitation to me.

Next year we're thinking about New Orleans, or Biloxi, or maybe even Las Vegas. Who knows? All I know is I'll be there.

posted by Dash | 10:04 AM | |

This is funny. A 13 year old kid was knocked out of a spelling bee because he couldn't spell the word, "girlfriend." After successfully spelling seemingly much harder words, he just couldn't get it.

While reading this I thought, okay, this kid just got stumped for some reason. He had a brain fart. It happens to all of us at some point. Sometimes I forget how to spell my street name. It happens.

But, that's not really the story here. The kid asked for the origin of the word (English) and asked for the definition ("a female companion or sweetheart"). Then he asked for an example of the word being used in a sentence and that's when it got bad.

The Bee Master provided the kid with the sentence, "You will never have a girlfriend." That did it. The little kid ran off the stage in tears.

Spelling Bee officials say it is an unwritten rule that Bee Masters do not ask spellers words that may have negative emotional connotations for the children. “It is our goal to not upset the children or remind them of their status as social outcasts,” said Beth Riley, director of the Spelling Bee. “That’s why you’ll never see words like ‘dork,’ ‘gayboy,’ ‘nerd,’ ‘wedgie,’ or ‘loser’ in a spelling bee. These kids hear those words enough on a day-to-day basis and don’t need to deal with hearing them in the one place their special talents are celebrated.”

Okay, it's bad enough that they're trying to shelter these kids from ridicule that we all endured in school, but now the word "girlfriend" is upsetting? Give me a break.

The kid's mother (who homeschools her son so he won't have to deal with those other kids and teachers who just don't understand his "gifts") says that he has probably never seen or heard that word before. After all, he's only 13. Why would he have ever had a need to know THAT word?

Heck claims the Spelling Bee was only the second time he ever heard the word “girlfriend.” “I once heard it on television when I was staying at my cousin’s house while my mother was giving birth to my little sister, so I know what it means,” he said. “But that was the only time. We don’t have a television at my house because my parents say TV is for proletariat ignoramuses.”

Now, I don't really watch much TV, but those who do are proletariat ignoramuses? A 13 year old boy knows what a proletariat ignoramus is and does, but he doesn't have a clue about the word "girlfriend?" Let's see, could it possibly be a friend who happens to be a... girl?

You know, these parents are not doing their kids any favors by sheltering them from the rest of the "proletariat" world out there. I'm a firm believer that social skills are very nearly as important as academic skills if one wants to get by in the real world. If you are the smartest guy in your company or even in your field, it's not going to mean much to anyone if they can't communicate with you.

Believe me - I see it every day. I work with some people whose innate ability is at a level I've only dreamed about. However, their obsequious parents never let them experience life and their social and interpersonal skills are that of a typical third grader. In other words, their intelligence got them to adulthood without ever having to experience the hard knocks most of us learned great lessons from. For example, being called names on the schoolyard. If you don't learn how to deal with things like that, your only defense mechanism will be to turn tail and run off crying.

I think what the Bee Master said to the boy was prophetic. At this rate, he never will have a girlfriend unless he happens to find someone as screwed up as he is.

When I read this article, I thought it was funny. Actually, I thought it was a joke. But, after letting it soak in a little and realizing that it is real, I think it's kind of sad.

I want to take that kid and show him what the real world is all about... that there's more to life than being able to spell big words and find Liechtenstein on a map.

posted by Dash | 5:55 AM | |

Kite Flying Event Claims 13 Lives

THIRTEEN people have been killed and more than 500 injured during an annual kite-flying festival in the eastern Pakistani city of Lahore.

Seven people with severe head injuries died in the city's General Hospital alone, and about 220 people were admitted with a variety of injuries including broken bones, hospital officials said.

The two-day festival of Basant, marking the start of spring, began with thousands of revellers perched on rooftops.

Two teenagers were killed when they fell from a roof, and two more were killed when a car hit them while they were trying to catch a stray kite, police said.

A man was killed by a stray bullet, while another was electrocuted when metal wire used to fly a kite became draped over live electric lines.

Officials said more than 300 injured people were taken to four other hospitals in different parts of the city.

Meanwhile, the festivities continued amid chants of "Bo Kata" (We have cut) as rival kites came down. Victory was celebrated with drumbeats, firecrackers and often firing in the air.

The celebrations also included concerts and dinner parties.

And we thought Mardi Gras was rough.

posted by Dash | 10:05 AM | |

I read several Memorial Day posts that were excellent. While most of us were spending a leisurely three-day weekend eating barbecue and drinking beer, we should have been thinking about all the people who have died while defending our rights and liberties.

I got an e-mail this morning that I've seen before, but thought it might be a good idea to post it so everyone can remember a few facts about history. These facts always seem to be forgotten in the political wars that occur in this country.

1. There were 39 combat related killings in Iraq during the month of January... In the fair city of Detroit there were 35 murders in the month of January. That's just one American city, about as deadly as the entire war torn country of Iraq.

2. When some claim President Bush shouldn't have started this war, state the following ... FDR led us into World War II. Germany never attacked us; Japan did. From 1941-1945, 450,000 lives were lost, an average of 112,500 per year.

Truman finished that war and started one in Korea, North Korea never attacked us. From 1950-1953, 55,000 lives were lost, an average of 18,334 per year.

John F. Kennedy started the Vietnam conflict in 1962. Vietnam never attacked us. Johnson turned Vietnam into a quagmire. From 1965-1975, 58,000 lives were lost, an average of 5,800 per year.

Clinton went to war in Bosnia without UN or French consent, Bosnia never attacked us. He was offered Osama bin Laden's head on a platter three times by Sudan and did nothing. Osama has attacked us on multiple occasions.

3. In the two years since terrorists attacked us President Bush has liberated two countries, crushed the Taliban, crippled al-Qaida, put nuclear inspectors in Libya, Iran and North Korea without firing a shot, and captured a terrorist who slaughtered 300,000 of his own people.

The Democrats are complaining about how long the war is taking, but it took less time to take Iraq than it took Janet Reno to take the Branch Davidian compound. That was a 51-day operation.

We've been looking for evidence of chemical weapons in Iraq for less time than it took Hillary Clinton to find the Rose Law Firm billing records.

It took less time for the 3rd Infantry Division and the Marines to destroy the Medina Republican Guard than it took Ted Kennedy to call the police after his Oldsmobile sank at Chappaquiddick killing a woman.

Wait, there's more.

Some people still don't understand why military personnel do what they do for a living. This exchange between Senators John Glenn and Senator Howard Metzenbaum is worth reading. Not only is it a pretty impressive impromptu speech, but it's also a good example of one man's explanation of why men and women in the armed services do what they do for a living. This is a typical, though sad, example of what some who have never served think of our military.

JOHN GLENN ON THE SENATE FLOOR Date: Mon, 26 Jan 2004 11:13

Senator Howard Metzenbaum to Senator Glenn: "How can you run for Senate when you've never held a real job?"

Senator Glenn: "I served 23 years in the United States Marine Corps. I served through two wars. I flew 149 missions. My plane was hit by anti-aircraft fire on 12 different occasions. I was in the space program.

It wasn't my checkbook, Howard; it was my life on the line. It was not a nine-to-five job, where I took time off to take the daily cash receipts to the bank. I ask you to go with me ... as I went the other day... to a veteran's hospital and look those men - with their mangled bodies - in the eye, and tell THEM they didn't hold a job! You go with me to the Space Program at NASA and go, as I have gone, to the widows and orphans of Ed White, Gus Grissom and Roger Chaffee... and you look those kids in the eye and tell them that their Dads didn't hold a job. You go with me on Memorial Day and you stand in Arlington National Cemetery, where I have more friends buried than I'd like to remember, and you watch those waving flags.

You stand there, and you think about this nation, and you tell ME that those people didn't have a job? I'll tell you, Howard Metzenbaum; you should be on your knees every day of your life thanking God that there were some men - SOME MEN - who held REAL jobs. And they required a dedication to a purpose - and a love of country and a dedication to duty - that was more important than life itself. And their self-sacrifice is what made this country possible.

I HAVE held a job, Howard! What about you?"

For those who don't remember - During W.W.II, Howard Metzenbaum was an attorney representing the Communist Party in the USA .

Thank a Veteran and say a prayer for those families who have lost a loved one defending our freedom.

posted by Dash | 6:00 AM | |

A few weeks ago I posted about my good fortune in being able to meet El Capitan of Baboon Pirates fame. We had lunch one day when I was passing through his region of Texas.

In that meeting we discussed how much fun it seemed like those folks in Jawja had at their blogmeet. I actually know some people who were there and the report was that it was a great gig.

Cap also talked about what a good time he had at the Texas Blogfest in Dallas. So, we decided it would be a good idea to have one in the Hill Country somewhere. Where else in Texas would you want to be in the summer than on one of the coldest rivers with a cool one in your hand?

Then, the next weekend I met up with ZiPpo the Pirate of Actual Miles. He lives in Dallas, but has a house in New Braunfels. He was down for a little R&R and to check on some family who lives there. I had a great time visiting with him and his family.

ZiPpo said we needed to have a meet in New Braunfels and we could use his place as a home base. Of course I thought that was a wonderful idea and the wheels were set in motion, as they say.

The weekend of June 25th was chosen. What we have planned at this point is a visit to Gruene Hall in historic Gruene, Texas on Friday night. Gruene Hall is the oldest dance hall in Texas and is the place where a lot of famous musicians either got their start or played for years before they hit the big time. Ones who come to mind are Willie Nelson, Jerry Jeff Walker, Pat Green, Robert Earl Keen, Hal Ketcham, Joe Ely, Ray Wylie Hubbard, Lyle Lovett, etc.

Gruene is actually in New Braunfels, so it won't be a long drive to go there. Friday night's entertainer is Buckwheat Zydeco from cajun country. That show is guaranteed to rock the house and will be one you won't soon forget.

Saturday is river day. We'll float either the Guadalupe River or the Comal River. The Guadalupe is well known for whitewater and parties. People come from hundreds of miles to enjoy the cold water coming down the river from the dam at Canyon Lake to New Braunfels. It's a lot of fun whether you're on a toob, in a raft, or in a kayak.

The Comal River is a little different, but just as much fun. It's a short spring fed river that curls its way around the town. There are several fairly fast parts of the Comal and one good Toob Chute that takes you in and spits you out down the river. If you're looking for a little more relaxed trip, this is the one you want.

Of course, part of the toobing experience is that you have to bring a cooler filled with your favorite beverages. The trick is getting through all the rapids and toob chutes with your cooler upright and intact.

After the river excursions, we'll go back to ZiPpo's forecastle for some BBQ and relaxation. There's bound to be some good eating and story telling going on over there 'til the wee hours of the morn.

Sunday will be firing range day for those who are so inclined. The outdoor range is about 10 minutes from town and it opens at 10 AM. I'm sure there will be a few takers on that one.

ZiPpo and Beth from Yeah, Right, Whatever have set up a site to keep everyone updated on the coming events. Go on over there and check it out. We'd love to see you there. It's going to be a good time.

UPDATE: Here's little info on Buckwheat Zydeco.

....June 24th (tickets at the door only)

There are not a lot of musicians that get to play in front of an audience of 3 billion, but Buckwheat Zydeco, whose real name is Stanley Dural Jr., had that distinct pleasure when he played for the summer Olympics of 1996. He's also played shows with Eric Clapton, U2, Robert Cray, and Los Lobos, and has earned 4 Grammy Award nominations.

His name Buckwheat came about because the braided hair he had when he was growing up reminded his friends of the character from the Little Rascals. Zydeco, of course, comes from the music that he loves that originates from the area of Lafayette, Louisiana.

Dural plays the "piano accordion" accompanied by a band that includes trumpet, saxophone, and other instruments, playing a mixture of rock-n-roll, funk, blues, jazz and roots music.

Sound like fun? Come see for yourself, and pick up a copy of Buckwheat's first studio release in 8 years, Jackpot.

posted by Dash | 6:00 AM | |