Midnight Man

I ain't going nowhere, man...

Go ahead and come around, if you want.

Sunday Drive

I am sure that is fine, some sorta good omen.

Here

Just because...I like videos about space and shit.

Weekend Plans

Something like this...

NFG

Moody, that might describe me, these days.
Not what you would call melancholia...
More a melange of boredom, anger and dull entertainment.
Which might be my standard deal, if I think about it.
But I try not to...

Fan Mail Friday

I get this kinda shit, all the time...

Last Nights Dream

Well, it is a two-fer and the dreams aren't even from last night.
Since I am the one posting here, and you are the one casually stopping by for whatever reason you do, these post titles will exist to fit my needs, solely...


Yeah, had one of those vague observer dreams, like I do.
It was sorta like a documentary, with some folks escaping from Nazi Germany, during the war.
No real indication why the folks were on the run, other than the fact that they were surrounded by goddamned Nazi's, which seems reason enough for me.  Right?
Anyway, there were maps, you know, like they show during war documentaries.  Maps with arrows that sweep across countries and all of that.  Very official.
At one point, the folks on the lam used one of those Kettnekraftrad things as a vehicle.  There was a demonstration as to how, with careful maneuvering, our characters of interest were able to conceal their movements in the tank tracks of German heavy armor and what what you.
Of course, it wasn't actually based on any facts, so there you are...
That's it.
All I have to say about it, because it was a dream and that's where it stopped.

(As a side note, you really have to appreciate that Germany thought enough of a motorcycle/half-track to actually not just make a prototype, but make a whole bunch of the things.  That is a genuine crazy-person vehicle, right there.  Like actual insanity style crazy, but obviously a bunch of people had to be mad enough to deliver such a machine.  Which is crazy)


There was another one that was all about me and KVC tooling around in a sailboat.
Very nautical.
The boat only had a steering wheel below deck, in the cabin.  Vision was fairly obscured, as only thin slot windows were available on the sides.  No forward visibility, really, what with the sails and sloping deck and all.
But we were happily sailing about in the ocean, with me steering and KVC shouting which way to go.
There were some close calls with a pier and sorta sailing through a swimming area.  There were folks shouting and gesturing that perhaps I should tack to another course, I recall.
The water was very blue, startlingly blue, what I could see out of the tiny slot of a window.  A lovely blue.
I remember thinking that the whole steering set up seemed less than ideal, given the operational necessities of piloting a boat.
Driving around a boat, not really knowing what the deal is with boat driving was the thing.


That's what I got.
There you go...

Thrasher Thursday

Buggy

In what might be a contrary response to either the weather, my location, or both...

I keep thinking that a dune buggy seems like a great idea.
Seriously.

Like one of those little Manx style ones, maybe.

Cards

Gift Giving

For you...

The bird.

Not Snowing Here

You know, if you approach things correctly, the world can still seem to be poofy-fluffy fun.


I will let you know, if it actually snows...

Carols

Seasons Greetings

I got a little side tracked with that end-of-world shit, I admit it...


You know, I try to keep thing here vaguely relevant to whatever is going on in the world (beyond the perimeter of my yard) and all.
Timely...
Kinda like Fox News, but with somewhat fact based commentary and opinion.


Anyway, Christmas is right on top of us now.

Who is ready for a little holiday cheer?

Candy Ass Christmas

I have mentioned before that posts with "candy ass" in the title are far and away the most viewed around here...

Not sure why...


Anyway, here is a candy ass christmas gift to all you nasty, sugar addict perv's.

Sunday Drive

Turn it up...

Non-Holiday Jam

Yeah, I am pretty sick of that holiday tunage and I have barely been exposed to it this year.
Still, it's everywhere.
Grocery store, gas station, any other place schilling shit.

Here is an antidote to all that jingley, sparkley stuff though...


People say this is Jesus birthday action celebration, this time of year, right?
Has anybody else noticed that all the Jesus songs are total fucking bummers?
Maybe it's just me, but the JC songs seem depressing.

Places Everyone

Still Here?

Well, the world didn't end yet, huh...


There should be some kinda non-apocalypse dance or something.

Weekend Plans

Something like this...

Seeya in Hell

Well, some people say the word is going to end tomorrow...

Kinda like the rapture action we had some time back, remember?  Folks were all "It's gonna end!" then had to go buy groceries the next day 'cause the fridge was empty.


I am not up on the details surrounding this end of the world, really.  I don't usually watch those endless apocalypse marathons, on the History Channel.  I guess there is some Mayan dayplanner shit and some prophecy from from that Notre Dame guy, or something?


Either way, flaming doom or no, just know...

This is my response.

DoomsDayed

When I think of the end of the world, I look for advice from puppets...

Naked

Two Wheels Tuesday

Special bike I keep looking at from the Mann show edition.

Tree Tuesday

We put our tree up, over the weekend.

Like 2/3rd's of it, at least...
So, now you know.

It was a lot like the deal going down in the picture.
Except I wore a thong...

Lapse

Yeah, missed our regular Sunday Drive post I guess...
I am sure you lost some sleep over that one, right?

Howzabout I make up for it with some holiday singing by some acapella folks, in hot lapping a krautwagon?

It's seasonal, it references driving and otherwise is just a commercial.

You could probably come up with some better use of your time than lurking around here, anyway, so go do that will ya?

Weekend Plans

Something like this...

If./Then

Sorry

This needed to be shared.  I will just apologize right now, before you even look at it.





Is that a Texas state flag speedo?
It really is like a whole other country, down there.

Status Update

Sponsored by Suzuki.

Well

What do you think?

I am really just interested in the associated tax breaks, but, you know, I am also game for abstract power, bizarre ritual rights and all that other late night action...


You in?

Conceptual Art

If you will think back, I have maybe mentioned my fondness for conceptual art.

Ideas like audience, voyeurism, performance and all that kinda shit...
I can actually hold up the end of a conversations on the subject, which is about the only value my studies on the subject provide, in real world situations.
After some years, my talk on the subject is peppered with more curse words and less speedy recall of artist's names, but whatever...


Anyway, here is a video of some Korean painter dude who screams at his paint, because it can record the energy.
Right.  Got that?
See, that makes complete sense to me.  So simple it is kinda brilliant.
The viscous media of paint would actually be affected by the different airflow, temperatures, spittle and such a good scream would provide.  One can even suggest the surface being affected by the sound waves, if you care to go on with that course.

Though that is all bullshit, too...


Some days, I wonder why I keep at this whole dealio, here.
Then I come across something like this and want to share it.
So, maybe, this is like the surface of some wet paint that I am screaming at...
In the hope that the energy of my moment is somehow temporally transferred to you.
A long term pastiche of my conscious.subconscious, somehow constructing it's own long term narrative.

Which might also be bullshit.

Two Wheels Tuesday

Special cool old bicycle oh fuck it look at her nipples edition.

Crapper Car

Well, everybody needs one, I guess.

Punctuation

Ran across this pic, while putzing around the old internet.

It included the caption-
"Talking to the cop on acid"

I feel like maybe there should be a comma in that statement...
Either way, I am sure this photo captures the basis for one of the best barroom stories ever.

Sunday Drive

Where do you get off?

Dune Buggy

Everybody probably needs a dune buggy...

Just sayin'.

Last Nights Dreams

So I had three separate dreams that I was gonna tell you about from last night.
I dozed off and forgot them, though.
So this post is pretty damned pointless...

I do remember that I was wearing the same clothes in all three dreams.
It wasn't the same narrative, or anything.
I woke up between each and laid awake, stating at the ceiling for a bit.
Then back to sleep, new dream, same clothes...

This all still seems pretty pointless, right?

It has me wondering though, what do people wear in their dreams and why?
Obviously, the brain is constructing a whole thing, story, environment, other people, everything...

Is the you in your dreams sorta an approximation  of the you that you imagine yourself being?
It seems odd, as that you part is the only thing that the brain has exacting knowledge of...

Weekend Plans

Something like this...

Farmer Friday

As a rule, actual farmers dress nothing like this.

Thrasher Thursday

Tear it up, girls.

True

Two Wheels Tuesday

Special sporty Sporty edition.

Ivory

Hey, it's our anniversary today.

Like the real one, not the first date one...


I know it may have slipped past you that it was today, the day that I married my lovely wife.
Declaring our affections for one another, in a very real, and legally binding way...
Before Elvis, family and random hula dancing girls.

Turns out the appropriate traditional gift for this anniversary is ivory.
Remember that the sale and trade of modern ivory is prohibited, while you are out shopping for our gift.  Only the old, antique ivory is cool.
We don't want anybody out poaching elephants for our benefit.

If you have trouble with the ivory bit?
Well, the "modern" gift suggestion is gold...
So, I guess you can send gold.
If you are feeling that lazy about our anniversary...


Either way, KVC is awesome.
That's all that matters, to me.

Duh

Sunday Drive

Fill'r up?

Don't Know

I have no idea what is going on, here...

But I think I like it.

Weekend Plans

Something like this...

Friday FED

Life Lessons

The Look

It was pointed out that this is the look I am currently rocking...


When I first heard it, it made me a little uncomfortable.
Now that I have referenced a picture it's all cool.
Just look at him...

Yukon Cornelius was pretty bad ass.

Two Wheels Tuesday

Special study this bike for hours edition.

Phew...

Hey, Thanksgiving and all that, right?
Let's all go ahead and check that off the list for this year.

We did the whole shebangabang here.
Hell, I am mowing through another plate of leftovers, as I type this.
The big meal deal.

It seems that most years KVC and I fly solo on the Thanksgiving deal.
Not out of any overt contempt for the holiday or people into it, but because it is kinda nice to just chill out together.  You know?
Not this go around, though.
No, we were the dinner for misfit toys.
Just a couple, some of KVC's worky cohorts...
Our buddy Kate was one, and we shall refer to the other as the guest whose name we will not speak.


Anyway, with company coming I got super stoked on doing some full tilt cooking, right...
Hell, cooking Thanksgiving dinner is like the big leagues of cooking for guests, right?
The Big Day, with every dish ready for direct comparison to something some random grandmother made sixteen years ago, that was literally the best thing ever.

So, you gotta get game on for that sorta meal...

The plan, as concocted by me-
Roast a reasonable turkey, for four with leftovers to go.
That crab stuffed portabella action we do every holiday.
Garlic mashed potatoes.
Stuffing, or dressing, or whatever you call it, cornbread base, with sauteed leeks and bonus corn.
Roasted parsnips and carrots, cooked in some broth pretending to be done with the bird.
Brussels sprouts and walnuts, with just a hint of Asian spice/influence.
Rum simmered cranberry concoction thing.
Mushroom gravy, you know, from scratch.
Sweet potato pie, admittedly from a box.
A crock pot full of wassail.

Outside of the potatoes, that was my list, my stuff to cook list.  KVC was on the mashed duty, guests were in for pre-game snacks and wine for the evening.

I learned early in the day, day of, that literally everything is closed on Thanksgiving here.  No secret special only store open situation, it's all closed.  That tripped up our buddy Kate, just a bit, but she recovered with some snacking goodness from an obscure Indian grocer, somewhere north.

So, cool.  We are cooking, and chatting, and snacking like people do on Thanksgiving.  My stress level is toning down, as things are actually on track, with only the last big push to gets things on plates to worry about.  Extra, unnamed guest is late.  It's all cool...

I was feeling pretty good on the bird, by the way.  It's the star of the show, so I kinda think you gotta get that right.
Having not made one for about ten years, it had me nerved.  I ended up reading Alton Brown's dry brine tips a dozen times, 'cause that is my go-to dude for cooking science, and then riffing on the Zuni recipe for roasted chicken as well.  Also plugged a thermostat into the thigh, after about an hour in, and watched like a hawk for 165.

With plenty of cooking time to go, guest number two rolls in.  Additions to our mix include two salami, some pita chips (ranch flavored), smoked salmon and a big bottle of Woodbridge.  OK, whatever, sure.  Dude says he's starving, so I chop up that salami, mix together a plate of existing snacks and, uhm, ranch pita chips and put it on the table...
To keep the crowd out of the kitchen, you know, because I was still cooking.

I am managing the sides cooking times, pulling the bird so that it might rest and absorb all those juicey juices and all.
There is the standard new guest house tour, where KVC tells you something about every third painting on the wall.  More wine was opened, I guess.
Transition time, I pour myself a finger of bourbon, but not my first.  The table starts to get cleared/set.  Folks are loitering, lingering, sitting, sneaking bites of stuff.  Cool.  I get down on the gravy, making the rue, browning the flour, stirring like mad to prevent lumps.  The stove top fan is on, because the whole kitchen could roast things at this point of the day.
What?  Commotion from the girls, in the next room.  Something up, but I am nearly done with gravy.  Focus, stir.  Did somebody say sick?  Gravy done, burners off.
What the fuck?

Yeah, the guest whose name we shall not say popped in the bathroom.
Big time...
KVC saw some of it happening, real time.
Our buddy, Kate, was near saintly with concern.
I took the dude a garbage bag, cleaning products and a big goddamned stink eye.

And then I plated food.
That may seem a little odd, but I was two days deep in planning, prep and cooking and nobody was turning that ship around.
Food was ready to go, for fucks sake.

We sat down to, perhaps, the most awkward Thanksgiving I can imagine...for me, KVC and Kate.
Mystery guest continued to cower in the bathroom/vomitorium.
We cleared plates, had some wine, talked about the elephant in the next room.
And he remained, door closed.
Ice water was delivered, food refrigerated, half smiling/half terrified looks were exchanged.
Dude continued the crapper occupation.
I started a fire, we sat around it, drank wassail.
Still, the unnamed guest remained, like a princess in the tower.
Dogs were walked, a movie was watched, I tended embers.
That door remained closed, light escaping from the crack at the bottom but little else.
Girls went to bed, I had another wassail or two, watched the fire turn to coals.
And after seven long hours, the guest whose name shall not be uttered emerged with a garbage bag and long face...
Few words were exchanged, at that late (early) hour.  I left him slumped on the couch, to find a bit of sleep myself.
All guests snuck out, at some point before the sun came up...


Now, that is a pretty epic Thanksgiving story right there.  I could stop, but it continues.
That bathroom, in spite of many hours available for clean up still was an epic mess.  The purple-black slime still remained, bits of half chewed salami fat mixed in for maximum disgust.  It was fucking gross.  Really bad, the slime, the smell, sticky floor, fucking hell...
It was so bad that I threw away the bucket I used, cleaning it.  The mop, the gloves, everything.  Towels that were in the room, bath mat, the damned toilet paper, the laundry hamper.
It was like a puke hurricane.
Shitballs of awful...


Dear Kate had forgotten her dog's medications, at her pre-dawn departure, and was also leftoverless with all that drama.  She is still recovering from some jetlag, so her egress was understandable, by the way...
We all arrived at the Thanksgiving redo, family leftovers theme.  Comfortable clothes, food reheated in the microwave, dumb movies on TV, no barfing guests version.
The food was just as good, maybe better for not having to think so immediately about what had gone down the first time around.
We shared our trauma, horror and some laughs...and had fun.

So, yeah.
How was your Thanksgiving?


Oh, hey, the guest whose name we dare not speak was hoping to keep this story on the down low...
So, this is just between you and me.

Ruffles

Sunday Drive

It's your turn to drive.

Here

Something to make you wonder just what the hell is going on out here...

And over there...

And pretty much everyplace else, too.

Weekend Plans

Something like this...

Parade

I know some of you are used to watching some sort of Thanksgiving parade action, so here.

Life Lessons

Learn to respect what nourishes you.

Disco

Disco Volante Spider, that is...

Been a while since I have actually posted anything real here...
I am not sure why, exactly.  There is stuff going on, out here, I just didn't feel like bending your ear on it, or whatever.


We rambled over to the island of Jamestown, this past weekend, for some air and adventure.

I have rolled over there before, as a bike blast thrash, but hadn't really slowed down enough to check shit out.
It's an island, so you know everything is on one street and there are four things to do at any time.
Jamestown sits in the bay, between here and Newport.
There may be a lowbrow Newport suburb vibe, but shit is pretty highbrow in Newport so even that is a bit fancy.
Big summer house lookin' houses and little ramshackle crackerboxes mixed in.


And a shit ton of those old rock walls...
Everywhere.
Rocks piled into little boundaries and barriers.
Made me wonder about life on Jamestown, in the 1700's...

"Hey Swanty.  I haven't seen you in a moon.  Whatcha been busying yourself with?"
"Eh, you know, stacking rocks.  Got a good run on the east pile of rocks, now..."
"Ya, me too.  Pick up a rock, add it to the pile and again.  Idle hands and all that."


Anyway, we ambled over to Jamestown with an excuse destination, the Beavertail Lighthouse.
It is apparently the third oldest lighthouse in America, which is a detail that will likely prove useless to you in the future.  Now you know.
It sits on the south tip of the island on some rocky spit of shore, as you probably imagine an old east coast lighthouse would.
You get the idea...

Scrambling around on the rocks, facing the wind, watching the tide and the sea foam swirling in cold stone pools.
It made me think about Winslow Homer and his studio, up in Maine...
It was all so lovely and demonstrative, that front line of the war between earth and sea, that I could understand why a man would hermit away for years, trying to capture a whisper of that energy...


And then we got some lunch.
Well, sorta.  Our timing was a bit late for lunch and too early for dinner at most of the island spots.
Off peak hour on an off peak day on an island.  Perhaps poorly timed on our part.

Rather than resigning for sad pub food and white guy blues music, we ended up sitting outside at Fish.
Yes, it was cold.  It's November in New England for Christ's sake, of course it was cold...
But they have those heater things, an outdoor pizza oven, and a game bartender willing to deal with the likes of us.  We stuck to recommended pizza action, warm cocktails and witty banter.
All very satisfying...
I would hit this place again.  They seem to have their game together, from the glimpse I got to have.


So, yeah.
I sorta feel obligated to start on a rock wall...

Trike Tuesday

Maybe my fave Top Gear bit.

Those Days

This looks a lot like nearly everything I remember from my high school days.

The rest of the stuff in my head, from that era, has turned out to be pretty useless...

Sunday Drive

I think I would rather walk.

I Won't Dance

Weekend Plans

Something like this...

Grand Prix

\



Reminder, the first American Grand Prix in four years is going down this weekend, in Austin...

F1 racing, bro...
Dude.
That is some cool shit.

Not some restrictor plated, plastic family sedan lumbering around in circles, but cars with more technology than the goddamned space shuttle rocketing around like angry hornets.
It's cool, trust me...

Here are some helpful insights, if you are new to F1.

It's on the Speed channel, or network, or whatever they call it now, if you actually believe me and want to watch.

Fraulein Friday

Barnacles

Here is a lovely video about goose barnacle fishing, in Spain.

Feeling Cool

Try and keep up, kid.

Two Wheels Tuesday

Special crazy moose head fender edition.

Secession

Talk about going off the deep end, this whole parallel reality secession action is so goddamned ridiculous.

I guess it is citizens from thirty states, at this point?
Upwards of 60,000 Texans are on board for cutting off ties and getting back to actually being a whole other country, I guess.



I am just baffling that the election was the thing to set this shit off.  I mean the guy has been in office for four years now.  Was the reelection just too much for these folks to handle?
That was the last straw?

Because, seriously, those of us who watch more than one news channel kinda saw that coming...


Anyway, it does have me thinking.
You know Puerto Rico voted to join up, as an official state.
All these crying conservatives want their own loco-land.
So, why not give 'em something?
Like Alabama, maybe...
And make Puerto Rico a state.

Hell, we wouldn't even have to change the flag!

Really, I think we all know this is not about rich conservatives feeling butt hurt...
Because those 1% folks already have their own special countries, like Switzerland or the Caymans.
The folks pushing these petitions would probably really like Alabama.
It'll have 'em feeling just like home.

And maybe I won't have to hear their "our country back" moaning anymore...


My apologies to any nice people from Alabama...
Nothing personal.

Thanks

Hey vet's...

Thanks for keeping an eye on our horizons.

Sunday Drive

Well, OK...