Today is my lovely wife's 40th birthday. Christina has been handling it pretty well, I think. Last night the feisty one asked me if I wanted to make whoopie with a 30 something year old one last time.

I said, "What makes you think tonight is my last chance?" I don't think she was nearly as amused as I was. But, that's part of the married life, right? We take certain risks every day.

Happy Birthday, my sweet. You are a treasure and I'm lucky to have you. You turn me on more at 40 than you did at 21 when I first fell in love with you.

I love you and hope you have a great day!

posted by Dash | 8:24 AM | |

I ran across this gem a little late, but go read it before Steve pulls it. It would appear he feels the same way I do about Mr. Edwards.

posted by Dash | 8:16 AM | |

I was just sitting here thinking about college football season getting ready to start. In 62 days my beloved Tigers will start their season on ESPN Thursday night against the Bulldogs of Mississippi State. When I was at LSU, we just called them "State."

It's highly unusual for the Tigers to start a football season against another SEC team, but apparently when ESPN speaks, people listen. I'm a little concerned about playing the first game on a Thursday night instead of the usual Saturday. But, since MSU seems to be in a "rebuilding" mode these days, I'm convinced the Tigers will have little trouble winning the game.

What I'm more worried about is the next game against Virginia Tech. That game will definitely set the stage for expectations for LSU's season. Virginia Tech will come into the game ranked in the top 10 and will most certainly be a favorite to win the ACC this year.

If the Tigers can dominate that game and come away with a decisive win, the season should be very successful.

posted by Dash | 7:40 AM | |

Boudreaux been fishin down by de bayou all day an he done run outta night crawlers. He was bout ready to leave when he seen a snake wit a big frog in his mout.

He knew dat dem big bass fish like frogs, so he decides to steal dat froggie. Dat snake, he be a cotton mout water moccasin, so Boudreaux had to be real careful or he'd get bit.

He snuk up behine de snake and grabbed him roun de head. Dat ole snake din't lak dat one bit. He squirmed and wrapped hisself roun Boudreaux's arm tryin to get hisself free. But Boudreaux, him, hadda real good grip on his head, yeh.

Well, Boudreaux pried his mout open wit a stick and got de frog and put it in his bait can. Now, Boudreaux knew dat he cain't let go dat snake or he's gonna bite him good, but he had a plan.

He reach into de back pocket of his bib overhauls and pulls out a pint a Tennessee hillbilly moonshine likker. He pour a few drops into de snakes mout.

Well, dat snake's eyeballs rollback in his head and his body go limp. Wit dat, Boudreaux toss dat snake into de bayou, den he goes back to fishin.

A while later Boudreaux dun feel sumpin tappin on his barefoot toe. He slowly look down and dere be dat same cotton mout water moccasin, wit two more frogs.

posted by Dash | 12:22 PM | |

When I read this one today, I had to stop and think. What was that idiot thinking? Here's the article.

Golfer Survives Assault by 11-Foot Florida Gator
Tuesday, June 26, 2007

VENICE, Fla. — A man who lost his ball in a golf course pond nearly lost an arm when an 11-foot alligator bit him and pulled him in.

Bruce Burger, 50, was playing the sixth hole, which has a "Beware of Alligator" sign posted nearby.

"Unfortunately, that's part of Florida," course general manager Rod Parry said. "There's wildlife in these ponds."

Burger managed to free himself Monday by beating the alligator with his other arm, said Gary Morse, a spokesman for the Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission.

"I saw him reach down to get his ball and he yelled ... 'Help. Help. I've been bitten by a gator,"' said Janet Pallo, who was playing a nearby hole and ran over to drive the man to the clubhouse.

Burger was taken to a hospital but was not seriously injured, Morse said Tuesday.

It took seven Fish and Wildlife officers an hour to trap the one-eyed alligator, Morse said.

Okay, first of all it says the guy was assaulted by the alligator. Assaulted! The dumbass stuck his arm into the gator's front door and was surprised he was bitten. If I were the judge in this case, I'd say it was clearly self-defense. Just be thankful gators can't shoot guns.

On the other hand, maybe the gator thought the guy's arm was lunch. I mean the poor gator only had one eye. Maybe the arm looked like something to eat. After all, the dude's name is Burger.

Maybe it's the golfer who can't see very well. There was a big sign at the pond that said, "BEWARE OF ALLIGATOR." If I saw that sign hanging over a pond in Florida, guess what? I'm not sticking my freakin' hand in there! I don't care if I just hit a brand new Titleist Pro-V 1 in there. I'll drop another and keep on trucking. Thankyaveramuch.

The course manager doesn't sound like he's any more sympathetic than I am. He said, "Unfortunately, that's part of Florida. There's wildlife in these ponds."

No shit! If I'm playing golf in Florida or anywhere in the south for that matter, I'm on the lookout for pissed off wildlife. In Florida, it's cottonmouths and gators. Here in Texas, you have to be on the lookout for mad squirrels, hungry deer and plain old ornery rattlers.

How lucky can the dolt get. He was bitten on the arm by an eleven foot, one-eyed, pissed off gator and the report says he "was taken to the hospital, but was not seriously injured."

Holy crap! How does that happen? Did the gator finally get a good look at the imbecile and decide he wasn't really all that hungry after all? Maybe the gator remembered how bad that last guy tasted and said "fugitaboutit."

Maybe he was just messing with the dipshit? Heh - I bet he got him down into the pond and said, "Gotcha! Now... I'm gonna let you go this time... but don't be stickin' yo ugly assed arm up my house again, bitch!"

The guy is seriously lucky he didn't lose his life or his arm. It can't be easy to play golf with only one arm and even harder if you're dead.

Here's some advice to the guy and anybody else who's thinking about fishing for a lost ball. Leave the ball in the pond or deep rough! Live to slice another tee shot, chunk another chip, shank another approach shot, yip another two footer. You'll be glad you did.

posted by Dash | 12:46 PM | |

Dear Abby,

I am a crack dealer in Beaumont, Texas who has recently been diagnosed as a carrier of HIV virus. My parents live in Fort Worth.

One of my sisters lives in Austin and is married to a transvestite.

My father and mother have recently been arrested for growing and selling marijuana. They are financially dependent on my other two sisters, who are prostitutes in Dallas.

I have two brothers: one is currently serving a non-parole life sentence at Huntsville for the murder of a teenage boy in 1994. My other brother is currently in jail awaiting charges of sexual misconduct with his three children.

I have recently become engaged to marry a former prostitute who lives in Longview. She is a part time "working girl".

All things considered, my problem is this. I love my fiancé and look forward to bringing her into the family. I certainly want to be totally open and honest with her.

Should I tell her about my cousin who supports Hillary Clinton for President?

Signed,
Worried About My Reputation

H/T to the morning e-mailbag

posted by Dash | 7:45 AM | |

Segregation, that is.

My SEC friends will appreciate this one.

posted by Dash | 6:07 AM | |

This morning I received an e-mail from one of my fraternity brothers who lives in New Orleans, but travels a good bit.

A couple of years ago he sent an e-mail reporting on the status of another brother who was apparently having a difficult time grasping the reality that his younger days were behind him.

I'm glad to report that conditions have not changed. As evidence, see the following e-mail update.

Greetings Brothers,

It has been about two years since my last report from Brother E's crib in sunny Orlando, land of disbelief.

Recall, that at last I reported, Brother E's existence reminded me of Peter Pan's. Recently single and surrounded by more toys than a man (but not an eternal teenage boy) should be allowed to have (Japanese swords, pool table, nunchucks, the 10 foot projection TV and karaoke machine in the living room, the vintage working coke machine, etc. etc.), he was living the life of decadence and pleasure only a 48 year old, bald, fat guy could fully appreciate.

Fortunately life, and a last minute business trip, found me back in La La land. However, I did expect a few changes. You see, three months ago Brother E, on his way through Louisiana, introduced me to his latest conquest, a 40 year old, very attractive divorcee, Christian woman, mother of 5 (ages 2-13). The word MILF came to mind when I met the lady.

My fears of a major change were raised when, at dinner (at the House of Blues), brother E actually recited grace. Now, there is nothing wrong with thanking our Creator for providing us with sustenance from His bounty, it just seemed out of character for our beloved Brother E to do so in such a public place. Aside from the doxology at the fraternity house, which I know for a fact he never memorized, Brother E hadn't said grace since our De La Salle days.

I am happy to report that my fears were not well founded. The MILF is still around, but it appears to me that her only influence on our boy is a bottle of Grey Poupon, a jar of Olives, and a bottle of Zinfandel in the refrigerator.

To my great pleasure, I can report a refrigerator with: 5 tubs of whipped butter; 4 sticks of regular butter; three kinds of beer (none imported); a head of lettuce which saw better days about 2 months ago; two cans of whipped cream; 3 packs of Kraft American Singles; a half full can of Cheez It; and nothing else that even suggests of nutritional value. I've never been prouder to be a brother as when I took inventory of the refrigerator.

The toys are still here, with a few additions: he now has turned his guest bedroom into a full gym with free weights (he had 200lbs on the bench press--impressive). There is now a second more modern coke dispensing machine which he claims reminds him of the one on the downstairs hall in fraternity house (no diet softdrinks in the machine, only Coke and Fanta Orange). Breakfast this morning consisted of Strawberry Frosted Pop Tarts and a Coke. A treat indeed! Life is good!

I can also report that no grace was forthcoming at dinner last night at Fishbones.

There is also a brand new 30' fishing/pleasure boat (with a bikini pad) and various other sundries.

Below is a picture that summarizes what I'm trying to convey, and helps me keep the faith that "the good life" is alive and well:






















Note how our brother has chosen to protect the $800 Home Depot tractor from the elements while leaving his $50K toy exposed. Life is good, the world is round, and the laws of gravity and the universe still hold true.

I report - you decide.

Fraternally yours,
Brother J

UPDATE: On advice of Chrissy, here is the original post about Brother E.

posted by Dash | 7:54 AM | |

Elisson has a post wherein he showcases the culinary exploits of the lady they call SWMBO. Apparently she really took care of the boy on Father's Day. The pictures of the feast are mouth watering to say the least. If you've read his blog, you already know, the man do know how to live.

Well, I had a pretty doggone good Father's Day weekend my ownself. The lovely Christina knows how to take care of her man, too. And as we all know, the way to a man's heart is through his gullet.

It all started on Friday night at our monthly dinner club/ poker game. Four couples in the neighborhood get together once a month for a grand meal, a few cocktails and a friendly poker game.

Friday night was Mexican night, so we started off with margaritas, mojitos, and Dos Equis to get us rolling into the mood. For appetizers we had 7 layer dip with corn chips and whole jalepeno peppers stuffed with cream cheese, wrapped with bacon and grilled.

The main course was beef fajitas with all the trimmings, and Christina's famous cake for dessert. After we ate, we played poker and yours truly took first prize. It started slow, but eventually the cards started coming in.

Saturday night Christina cooked Pork Cutlets Diane with a tenderloin we had been saving for just such an occasion. We opened a bottle of red wine and the dinner was excellent.

Sunday morning I got a call from Sweet One who was calling from school in Missouri. She said she was really enjoying the class and that her first week went very well. Then Wee One came in to say happy Father's Day.

Christina jumped from bed to run into the kitchen and make Eggs Benedict for us. In case you don't know it, that is my favorite breakfast. It was delicious.

For lunch we had pork tenderloin sammiches on fresh french bread. Chrissy puts fresh sliced cucumbers on those and they are great. That and a Shiner Blonde and you're pretty much in heaven.

Most of the day, I sat around, read the Sunday paper and watched the U.S. Open on High Def. I did manage to get some yardwork done in between, though. I didn't want to over exert myself, so I did the front yard on Saturday and the back yard on Sunday. I even changed the oil in my John Deere when I finished.

Oh, and I finally sprayed bug poison around the house, too. Christina's really been getting "bugged" by the great pillbug invasion of '07. So, I became the exterminator for a while.

Last night we had a couple of giant T-Bones with a nice bourbon sauce, jalepeno mashed potatoes, asparagus and my favorite German Chocolate cake for dessert. Then I adjourned to the deck for a CAO Brazillia and a glass of Macallan. On the ipod I had BB King's Greatest Hits.

It doesn't get much better than that, my friends. I wish I had some pics like Elisson to show you how great it was, but you'll just have to take my word for it.

Thanks Chrissy and girls for a great weekend. You make it nice to be a dad.

posted by Dash | 7:43 AM | |

Fred's got it going on with this post. Anybody who cares about the financial/economic future of this country needs to read this.

It's so simple, yet so many people prefer to put politics above the economic health of the whole country.

If we allow the democrats to raise taxes again, we'll undo all the progress we've made. Anybody who doesn't realize that isn't really paying attention.

Perhaps the most fascinating thing about this success story is where the increased revenues are coming from. Critics claimed that across-the-board tax cuts were some sort of gift to the rich but, on the contrary, the wealthy are paying a greater percentage of the national bill than ever before.

The richest 1% of Americans now pays 35% of all income taxes. The top 10% pay more taxes than the bottom 60%.

The reason for this outcome is that, because of lower rates, money is being invested in our economy instead of being sheltered from the taxman. Greater investment has created overall economic strength. Job growth is robust, overcoming trouble in the housing sector; and the personal incomes of Americans at every income level are higher than they’ve ever been.

Go read the whole article on his blog. The guy has a way of explaining things that few other politicians have.

posted by Dash | 11:41 AM | |

Michele has a post up about grilling and BBQ where she calls me the Grillmaster and Sam has called me that along with such things as Christina's Grillboy.

While flattered by the name calling, I don't know if I would go that far in their assessments. I guess I'm pretty good at charring animal flesh, but I never really considered it to be an unusual talent. In my family, it's just something that one knows how to do. It's called survival in the south.

After all, it's not rocket surgery or anything. It's really simple if you think about it. You start a fire, let it burn down for about half an hour, throw some dead animal muscle on the grill, turn it over a couple of times, stick a meat thermometer in it occasionally to check for doneness, and pull it off the fire when it's done. Then you eat it. Even a caveman could do it. Right?

Cooking is something you do either out of love or necessity. It's kind of like the old saying, "Some people eat to live and others live to eat." I live to eat and as luck would have it, I love to cook - especially outdoors.

Cooking outside is a guy thing, I think. You start the fire, you cook the meat or whatever. And while you're doing this, you sit out on the deck or patio with a couple of beers and maybe a good smoke. If you're lucky, you have a few friends to bullshit with about manly things while you prepare the food. Like I said, it's a guy thing. Don't try to analyze it.

How did I get this way? Well, I've been surrounded by great cooks my whole life. It would have been real easy for me to just sit back and let other people cook for me. That would have been okay, but I'm more of a hands-on kind of guy. And luckily most cooks love to teach others how to do things. I had lots of teachers.

When my great-grandparents moved to Louisiana from Minnesota during the depression, they made a living by running a small boarding house. My great-grandfather was a carpenter who made a few bucks building things around town and his wife cooked all the meals for the boarders in the house. From what I've heard, that was a big job, but she loved it.

It gave her a chance to cook lots of food and try out new things on people. She was German, so most of the meals were based around meat, potatoes and gravies. I still remember her cooking for family reunions and such. Her enthusiasm for cooking and making sure everyone was well fed was evident - even to a kid like me.

My grandaddy, the one who taught me the love of everything outdoors, including hunting, fishing, playing golf, and tending a garden (along with telling bullshit stories and drinking beer) also taught me a thing or two about cooking.

He was an excellent cook who was basically self-taught. His layouts are legendary. People used to ask him if he had been a student of Le Cordon Bleu. He would laugh and say, "No - I learned from the school of Cauldron Black." He loved to cook for large groups of friends and family.

Next is my mother who was one of the best cooks I have ever known. She didn't cook a lot in her last several years, but in her day, she was unrivaled. She would have made some of these women on the Food Channel look like rank amateurs.

Mom inherited the love of feeding large groups of people from her dad. She was the consummate hostess for any event that included food. I didn't learn to cook any of the fancy stuff from her, but she taught me a few things about what we called "country cookin'."

When I was growing up, I remember watching my dad cooking steaks, burgers, chickens, etc. on the grill. It was then that I developed a love of the smell of cooking meat. As soon as I was old enough and proved that I could hold my own around a grill, he let me take over the job. He would sit back with a glass of cheap scotch and supervise me cooking the meat for the family. Nothing like that kind of pressure to teach you how to do it. Experience is always the best teacher.

It wasn't always grilling or BBQ. A lot of times we cooked other things like frying fish, boiling crawfish, shrimp, or crabs. We were frying whole chickens and turkeys before anybody had even heard of that. Outside we cooked giant pots of gumbo, chili, beef stew, you name it. It was always a lot of fun.

When I was in college in Baton Rouge, a group of us got together every spring and boiled crawfish. When we got tired of cooking them for our friends and ourselves, we cooked more and sold them for beer money.

We had a serious cooking rig on a trailer and we would pull up to a festival or any other large event and sell platters of boiled crawfish. One day I remember we cooked over 2000 pounds of crawfish. We bought the live 'dads for 49 cents a pound and sold 3 pound platters of boiled crawfish for 5 bucks each. We made enough beer money that day to last us the whole semester.

Cooking for a large group of people can be stressful, but it can be a lot of fun, too. We usually make a big party out of the whole thing. I've cooked up to 60 chickens in a day and it's nothing to cook a 150 - 200 pound hog. If you have the right equipment and labor, it can be done without a lot of trouble.

Once you've done it a few times, you learn the right things to do and more importantly, the things not to do to ensure success.

Luckily, I married into a family of great cooks, too. Most of you have heard stories about my Maw-in-Law's cooking. She is phenomenal. As Christina can tell you, her mom can go to a restaurant, order something to eat, then go back to her kitchen and replicate the meal. It will taste just as good and probably even better than the one she had at the restaurant.

She does all this strictly by taste and just knowing the processes and combinations of certain ingredients that will work. It's amazing.

Since her mom doesn't use recipes and does her work by taste, it's harder to learn how to cook from her. But, I've found that if you really pay attention and listen to her while she's cooking something, you can't help but pick up some good stuff.

Christina is an excellent cook, too. It used to be that while I took care of the meats and stuff, she would take care of the salads, sides and especially the desserts. We became a pretty formidable team that way. However, with time, she has become the whole enchilada, so to speak. She can do it all.

Now, the kids are starting to get into the act. In the last few years, they both have become integral parts of the family cooking effort. Many days I come home from a long day at work to find a meal that has been cooked by my older daughter. At 14, she can already cook more than several adults I know. And the little one is well on her way to knowing her way around a kitchen, as well. I'm proud of both of them.

One of the things we did when we built our house was to design the kitchen as the focal point and build the rest of the house around it. If you walk into my house from any direction, within a few steps, you'll be right smack dab in the middle of the kitchen. We did that for a reason.

When we entertain guests, we spend most of the time in the kitchen. Why not make it comfortable for everyone? There's a bar you can sit at while others are preparing the meal. If you want to jump in and help, that's okay, too. There's room. I've seen times when there were no less than eight people working in and around the kitchen at one time.

The point of my ramblings is - I love to cook. And I have surrounded myself with lots of people who share that love and we have given ourselves a great place to do it. You can see that I come by it naturally. My waistline may suffer as a result, but at least I'll be happy in the process.

Isn't that what life is supposed to be about anyway?

posted by Dash | 12:48 PM | |

According to Miss Erica, the New Yawk Joo, the rules are “When you get done reading about my quirks, answer the questions yourself and either post them on your blog or in the comments below. If you answer the meme on your blog let me know so I can sneak a peek.”


WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED? I don't cry very often, but as far as I can remember, it was last August when I lost my mom.

posted by Dash | 9:53 PM | |

I was reading this post over at Jimbo's and it kinda made me a little sick. The Muslims in California want a special time period during school to be able to pray for an hour a day. They also want a special location set aside and they want some of the teachers to lead the prayers.

While the ACLU is quick to denounce any hint of school prayer when it comes to Christians, they're not addressing this one. Anybody have a problem with that? I do.

Then lo and behold, while mulling this over, I got this e-mail from an old friend of mine.

Who knows who wrote it, but it says what a lot of people are thinking and maybe don't have the guts to come out and say.

Since I'm fed up with "political incorrectness", I'm going to post it.

Here it is.

Are we fighting a war on terror or aren't we? Was it or was it not started by Islamic people who brought it to our shores on September 11, 2001?

Were people from all over the world, mostly Americans, not brutally murdered that day, in downtown Manhattan , across the Potomac from our nation's capitol and in a field in Pennsylvania ? Did nearly three thousand men, women and children die a horrible, burning or
crushing death that day, or didn't they?

And I'm supposed to care that a copy of the Koran was "desecrated" when an overworked American soldier kicked it or got it wet?...Well, I don't. I don't care at all.

I'll start caring when Osama bin Laden turns himself in and repents for incinerating all those innocent people on 9/11.

I'll care about the Koran when the fanatics in the Middle East start
caring about the Holy Bible, the mere possession of which is a crime in Saudi Arabia .

I'll care when these thugs tell the world they are sorry for hacking off Nick Berg's head while Berg screamed through his gurgling slashed throat.

I'll care when the cowardly so-called "insurgents" in Iraq come out and fight like men instead of disrespecting their own religion by hiding in mosques.

I'll care when the mindless zealots who blow themselves up in search of nirvana care about the innocent children within range of their suicide bombs.

I'll care when the American media stops pretending that their First Amendment liberties are somehow derived from international law instead of the United States Constitution's Bill of Rights.

In the meantime, when I hear a story about a brave marine roughing up an Iraqi terrorist to obtain information, know this: I don't care.

When I see a fuzzy photo of a pile of naked Iraqi prisoners who have been humiliated in what amounts to a college-hazing incident, rest assured: I don't care.

When I see a wounded terrorist get shot in the head when he is told not to move because he might be booby-trapped, you can take it to the bank: I don't care.

When I hear that a prisoner, who was issued a Koran and a prayer mat, and fed "special" food that is paid for by my tax dollars, is complaining that his holy book is being "mishandled," you can absolutely believe in your heart of hearts: I don't care.

And oh, by the way, I've noticed that sometimes it's spelled "Koran" and other times "Quran." Well, Jimmy Crack Corn and -you guessed it –I don't care ! ! ! ! !

If you agree with this viewpoint, pass this on to all your e-mail friends. Sooner or later, it'll get to the people responsible for this ridiculous behavior!

If you don't agree, then by all means hit the delete button. Should you choose the latter, then please don't complain when more atrocities committed by radical Muslims happen here in our great country!

And may I add: "Some people spend an entire lifetime wondering if they made a difference in the world. But, the Marines don't have that problem."
-- Ronald Reagan

It goes on with more quotes from Reagan, etc, but you get the gist.

H/T to my buddy Larry.

posted by Dash | 3:56 PM | |

It's time for a little R&R, boys and girls. We're headed to St. Louis for the rest of the week. I already have tickets to the Cards - Reds game on Thursday night and I think we have a few other activities planned for Friday and Saturday.

Personally, I'm looking forward to just getting away for a few days. I'm sure Chrissy will bring a laptop so she can keep an eye on things while we're gone. I'm gonna bring a couple of Arturo Fuentes and look for a nice 15 year old scotch to go with it.

Anybody know of any good sports bars in town where a Spurs fan can catch a game?

posted by Dash | 7:22 PM | |