The Princess

A piece on Grace Kelly in the New Yorker:
http://www.newyorker.com/arts/critics/books/2010/01/04/100104crbo_books_lane?currentPage=all. Apparently, she liked to screw a lot. Good for her. Anyway, she was a good looking broad and Hitchcock got the most out of her looks and attitude in To Catch a Thief. Of course, Cary Grant made your life easier if you were in the same movie and no one has been able to touch what he brought to the table since. Clooney is probably the closest though not nearly as skilled.

Going to see "Invictus" with the missus this afternoon and maybe a report will follow. Don't get your hopes up, though as I intend to lay on my ass a lot over the next few days--have to get the new year started off right.

Not a Pretty Sight

Most assuredly, this will some day be us.

Anyway, I'm probably related to this guy. Or, his love interest.

Bottoms Up

EDSBS suggests a most excellent drinking game:
http://www.everydayshouldbesaturday.com/2009/12/30/the-holiday-bowl-drinking-game-a-holiday-tradition-from-hell/. I say (channeling Warren Oates), "Why the hell not?" Speaking of The Wild Bunch, has there ever been a more excellent character name than Ben Johnson's Tector Gorch? I knew a guy once named, Horton Waller and I've always thought it outstanding. These days, it seems the most colorful names come via our brothers and sisters in the African American/Black/Negro/Colored community of which there seems to be no end to some highly creative titles. Scan a college football roster if you doubt me.

In and around Austin right now, they're birthing a lot of male babies to be named, Colt. If I was in that bidness right now, I'd name my son, Remington or maybe Smith Wesson Bulba or just go with, Glock.

Are you tired of me using italics? Thought so. I'll shut up and extend the common courtesy of a pleasant photograph to contemplate. Bottom included.

Fishing News

Another viewpoint:
http://www.theonion.com/content/opinion/what_kind_of_sick_fuck_would. We report, you decide.

Going Down

Fascinating article about Sullenberger's ditch into the Hudson, as well as other crashes:
http://www.nybooks.com/articles/23533.

When I fly, I always hope that the guy on the stick knows what he's doing. I've read some stuff about the low pay rate to pilots on some regional airlines--something around $30 or $35k a year and that gets my attention. Anyway, I take comfort in that the vast majority of pilots have a great sense of professionalism. I tell myself that, anyway.

As the piece also points out, flying is no longer a pleasurable thing. I agree and avoid it if at all possible. When I do fly, I prefer Southwest simply because they tend to do better at getting you where you need to go when you need to get there and they do it with a mostly polite, customer oriented attitude. Contrast that with some of the bitter, angry, hostile, miserable wretches that occupy the aisles of the major carriers and their cohorts in their respective "service" capacities and I have concluded that there is a big difference. Maybe that's just me.

I took my first flight when I was about ten years old. The old man decided to splurge, so he booked us on a Texas Trans Airlines (TTA) flight that made a milk run from Houston to Laredo (I think we hit Corpus and Brownsville on the way down). Oh, the glamor.

Facebook Fun

This was linked over at SnS:
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZeU7jQ5wUA7cxSE_sAQOZ5fpTRJdaePR-ewz7Mq8hyphenhyphenSlGUH09yJYhcx7nDfpaa-e5L_YvyKK534HnqUKQtDl8WRLunLmhvN2zum0BdIRHjqIQO-g5mJtOuG4tpBAwNniOsDpQQOEc5lU/s1600-h/58kXI.jpg. Just marvelous.

Jack Was Not a Dull Boy

TMZ has a pic apparently showing then Senator John Kennedy chillin' on a yacht with some nubile female types:
http://www.tmz.com/. Allegedly, brother Ted was also aboard for some fun. Additionally, it appears at this precise time, the future president's wife, Jackie, was severely pregnant. Is this the Camelot that the Kennedy fawners speak about? Just checking.

Another Christmas come and gone. No major incidents to report and everyone seemed pleased with their holiday loot. I got the standard: golf shit, socks, books, useless trinket that I don't need, etc. Just thankful that I did not have to enter a store on the day after Xmas. Instead, played golf and sucked. It was a small time money game involving five foursomes and the "captain" of our team whined the entire way about the impending loss of money at the conclusion of yet another less than stellar hole--none of us were playing very well. I guess maybe his wife stands at the door when he comes home for him to hand over his winnings. Hope she didn't use the genital restraint cuff on him.

Saw the new Sherlock Holmes movie and I give it an okay. Not great, but fairly entertaining. I would have enjoyed a less action hero take on Holmes and a little more sleuthing but filmmakers take a real hard look at who is going to movies and most of 'em ain't fifty something year old men. I like Robert Downey a lot as an actor, though I saw him interviewed by that awful Actor's Studio guy and Downey came off as someone who appears to be fairly insufferable in person. The thing they get right about the movie is that Watson is not played as a bumbling ass but more faithful to Doyle's portrait of him as a competent former military man who Holmes can count on in crunch time. Anyway, go see it but not during the holiday idiocy like I did. Huge crowds at the theater and a maddening fifteen minutes in line for popcorn. Had I been armed, I would have fired a shot into the ceiling to thin the cue out a little.

There are men...

...and then, there is a man like this:
http://www.wacotrib.com/news/content/news/stories/2009/12/24/12242009wachowardobit.html.

Nominated three times for the Medal of Honor and his comrades say he should have been awarded with the decoration for all of the separate incidents (other two were downgraded to the DSC and the Silver Star). You have men like Col. Howard and then you have what passes for men in both houses of the United States Congress.

Top of the Day, Chaps

An article that gives a survey of the history of drinking in Britain:
http://www.historytoday.com/MainArticle.aspx?m=33784&amid=30297900. Sadly, it left out my favorite anecdote that captures the Englishman's fascination with getting drunk off his ass; the Lord Nelson episode. Essentially, after Nelson was famously slain at Trafalgar while once again putting the bull cock to the Frogs, his body was ceremoniously carried aboard a warship up the Thames to London for the huge funeral service and his subsequent entombment at St. Paul's (or Westminster?). Anyway, the funeralists (is that a word?) were somewhat aghast at the condition of his body upon arrival, especially since he had been embalmed with state of the art methodology. "What gives?" or words to that effect sayeth the good yeomen charged with gussying up the still quite dead Nelson. Well, it seems that at some point or points along the gentle voyage, a couple of prime specimens of English seamanship seized the opportunity to not only view the departed Lord Nelson but to also subsequently sample and then guzzle down the fluid in which the dear admiral was floating about. Apparently, an interview of the seamen was not conducted to get their take on how the stuff went down. Anyway, it's still dangerous to get between a limey and his drink. Cheers.

Hump Day: Boxing Day Edition

Started to post a pic of some nymphette in a Miss Klaus outfit but thought better of it. Instead, here's the lovely Vanessa wishing you a very Merry Christmas and hoping you're capable of being bad. Shouldn't be a problem.

Crested

Got back from a trip to Crested Butte last night. The intention was to come back today, however, we woke up yesterday morning with screaming weather reports of an impending hell storm coming from the west. Old dad then made a command decision to get on the stick and get out of there before getting out became impossible. Glad I did: today the roads are solid ice and DIA is a war zone that's about to get even worse. The thing that's great about Crested Butte is that it is out of the way--five hours from Denver in great weather and that's maybe taking a leak just once. The bad thing about CB is that it is also...out of the way. You've got a couple of serious mountain passes to navigate, including the mother of them all, Monarch Pass. Essentially, if you haven't before, you learn the manly art of downshifting a lot. If you're on icy roads, go ahead and pop three or four Xanax cocktails and prepare for twelve or so hours of wonderful fun.

Skied Sunday and Monday and the conditions were outstanding--sunny, little wind, and great snow. Crowds were tolerable, CB is a friendly place (even to Texans), and there are more than a few shopping opportunities for Mrs. Bulba. She doesn't ski, but her and her sister enjoy snowshoeing down the multitude of trails around the town. For my part, I skied hard though I'm not very good. Trouble comes for me down steep inclines--I'm just not good at the things though I did manage not to fall on my ass. The long, blue downhill cruisers are my favorite and you can keep the black diamond and moguls, thank you very much. What I don't like about skiing is, of course, hauling the equipment around and wearing all that ski gear. Returning home last night and putting on shorts and a t-shirt were instantly mindful of why I live where I do--it's just easier to go about your day to day life. Sure, summers are hell but I figure I'd rather take off clothes rather than put on more. Anyway, shoveling out a driveway up there will get your attention if you have an inkling to settle down up north. Not for me.

Back to the driving: at the Hertz counter at DIA, I decided to upgrade to something all wheel drive in anticipation of possible unpleasant driving conditions. So, Taras Bulba, supreme hater of all things minivan, ended up driving out of the parking lot with a blue...Volkswagen van. Goddamn it. I'll cut to the chase--this was the one minivan on America's roads that wasn't DRIVING 55 IN THE GODDAMN LEFT LANE or ATTEMPTING TO CROSS THREE LANES OF TRAFFIC TO TURN INTO A SHOPPING CENTER, or WAS UNABLE TO NEGOTIATE INTO A PARKING SPACE, TAKING UP TWO SPACES. Straight up, I drove the living shit out of the thing, flooring it a number of times to pass up people doing 80 in a 65mph zone. Both Bulba daughters were laughing their ass off at dad ripping through Colorado in the minivan product and Mrs. Bulba was considering vomiting at several points, especially while speeding headlong down a winding mountain road--great fun for all. Frankly, people along the way were shocked and whoever will be servicing the van back at the Hertz maintenance barn will notice some unusually significant road wear on the vehicle since it was last rented by the Glubb family from Moline.

Happy motoring.

Arts Beat

Various English art types weigh in on music, theater, performers, writers, etc. that they just don't like:
http://entertainment.timesonline.co.uk/tol/arts_and_entertainment/specials/article6964184.ece

Funny stuff. I agree on jazz. I actually like jazz with a discernible beat or tune but the beatnik, smoke filled lounge stuff favored by beret wearing artistes just gives me a headache. Also, like the take on Romeo and Juliet. I never thought it tragic. Instead, I saw it as two people f____g up a lot who pretty much couldn't pass the Darwin test. Disagree with the interior designer who doesn't like Monty Python or Chaplin or physical comedy. Of course, he is an interior designer and squats to take a leak. Nutcracker, I agree, is awful to sit through. There's a few well known familiar tunes and a whole lot of nothing surrounding them. Shellback and I once took in the play with Mrs. Shellback and Mrs. Bulba and ended up getting scolded by the wives for making disparaging comments regarding the lack of athletic prowess of the male ballet dancers who, nevertheless sported very pronounced and impressive codpieces. Lots of angry glances and hisses to behave. To be fair, we had been drinking. Like the comedian in the article, I too don't get Tom Waits. That must mean I'm not cool. Then there's Matthew Parris who thinks the Beatles are overrated. Uh, I'll have to fess up and agree on that. I know it's sacrilege but I enjoyed the Stones and any number of bands more. I thought that Lennon was an ass and McCartney a little silly--oh, they made some great music but a lot of it was just, you know, poofy. Can't say that about Jagger and that breathing skeleton, Keith Richards. Finally, I've read Dickens and he was a damn gifted writer but those are books that require one to sit in a mahogany study with a brandy or sherry or whatever and brood while working through them. Sometimes, the mood will catch me right and I'll do just that (sans the mahogany) but though Dickens touches on timeless themes, it can be earnest work getting to the end of his stories. I'm about to finish Ambrose's Band of Brothers and what a cracking read. That is, unless you're a fan of Field Marshall Montgomery and the British effort in the European Theater which Ambrose takes to task more than a few times. Highly recommend it.

Happy Shopping

Have a great weekend and reminding you that egg nog won't get you into a two piece. Well, not neccessarily.

Outward Signs

A piece on tattoos and other intentional marks:
http://reason.com/archives/2009/12/03/reading-peoples-faces. We've discussed this before, the tattoo thing and all. Whatever. Nothing says "executive talent" like a nice neck or hand tattoo. I would maybe feel different if I had a pair of rippling biceps to display some mysterious looking celtic symbol that I would later find translates to "scrubber of slop jars" or something.

Will be out of the blog bidness for a while, returning later next week from an idiotic trip that I've been shanghaied into taking. Nimdok and Shellback are in full control. Any chance of posting a photo of a female that isn't an emaciated crack addict, Nimdok?

Holidays in Hell (Continued)

More on a strange tour of British Isles ancient sex clubs, this time to Scotland in search of the "Beggar's Benison"
http://www.slate.com/id/2238342/entry/2238346/. Won't take you long to read this or to come to the conclusion that those fellows were just a little out there. I guess the circle jerk concept came across the pond along with most everything else.

Hump Day: Mall Hell Edition

I have to go the mall this evening and there is no good that will come from this exercise. All in all, I'd rather be driving a Jeep.

Happy Birthday, Billy

Billy Gibbons is sixty (60) today. Thanks for the hot licks, Billy. Keep 'em coming.

Holidays in Hell

not the O'Rourke book, but a series of interesting articles on the Hellfire Club and the surviving descendants:
http://www.slate.com/id/2238342/entry/2238343/. I think I would have liked to hang out with Ben Franklin.

Gifts

Elizabeth Bernstein writes about Xmas (note not, Holiday) gift giving:
http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052748703954904574595872903137030.html. Essentially, women are very difficult to gage in terms of what to give while men are absolute nitwits when it comes to what to do this time of year. I've whittled it down a little through the years, and try to laser the process to a few stores to get it over with while coming up with something that will at least keep me out of the guest bedroom. Jewelry is usually a slam dunk. What typically happens is that Mrs. Bulba will swing by the jewelry store and let a certain salesperson know what she likes. Then, Mr. Bulba will stop by and will be informed that Mrs. Bulba just happened to have been by the store and saw some things she liked (it's sort of like Balkan diplomacy--all known subterfuge). Then, it's simply up to whether Mr. Bulba feels like shelling out for some shiny object with no utility value other than the potential flushing of body fluids should the house by empty of teenagers. She's actually pretty easy to buy for and not the kind to complain about gifts: she came from a big family and grew up appreciating whatever she received. I'll also get her some workout togs and that kind of stuff, nothing too out of the ordinary. On the other hand, I'm difficult to buy for, mainly because like most guys, I don't really need anything; whatever I need I usually pick up at that time. While well meaning, I've found that females are often as out to lunch as much as men are when it comes to buying gifts. If the guy is a golfer, he'll get all sorts of absurd and useless golf related shit and will have to bravely smile before consigning the worthless doohickey to the closet of no return. Golf balls are always a very useful gift for a golfer if they're the balls the guy plays. A flashlight is sort of a safe choice--most guys like flashlights even though they currently have at least twenty, none of which they can find whenever they're needed. Knives are good, mostly for the same reason. Pajamas--never. I guess gift cards are fine, the problems being that they are easily lost and mean that the guy will have to actually go shopping in order to use them. Amazon.com has benefited greatly from this--you can buy a lot of stuff from them beyond just books, it's shipped efficiently to you and you'll usually come away with something useful. Of course, the fundamental problem with your wife buying you gifts is that she's most often doing it with your money. Just great, honey. I really, really like those house shoes, especially knowing that they cost me fifty bucks and I'll never wear 'em. Merry Christmas.

Shooting Sideways

Slate's "Explainer" talks about thugs who aim sideways and other aspects of being a dumbass:
http://www.slate.com/id/2238560/. Essentially, it's not exactly a new phenomenon (he cites Brando and Wallach as doing it before in movies) and gives a couple of historical examples, but it's not really effective.

My old man qualified as "expert" on the .45 during his time in the Corps. I know this because I inadvertently ordered a "sharpshooter" badge when I was assembling all of his decorations and awards and he spotted it right off when I presented him the real nice display I had made for him. Had to send off for the correct badge and get that piece of business squared away. They apparently shot one handed back in those days and his theory was always properly cradling the weapon when firing. Now, of course, everyone shoots two handed and they've weenied down to the 9mm in order to make the Euros happy and insure a more peaceful and humane way of shooting people.

I'm not a very good pistol shot because I don't practice shooting them. Shooting targets is one thing, but drawing down on a live animal is another (see Reynolds, Burt in "Deliverance"). I've shot wild hogs in traps on many occasions with a pistol and it's, at best, a grim business. The hogs are both enraged and frightened and you've got to maneuver the gun between the rebar for the kill shot. Whoever likes doing it is someone you should avoid at all costs--it's really ugly stuff. The feral hog problem has become huge in Texas and other states and there's nothing on the horizon that will check their advance. Smartest animals in the brush and that includes the guys trying to hunt them.

Vikings on the Big Screen

Apparently, Mel Gibson is going to make a movie, or "film" for those of you who drink mocha lattes and other shit, that has to do with vikings, and maybe Leonard Di Caprio will star in it:
http://www.variety.com/article/VR1118012680.html?categoryid=13&cs=1. I hope it happens and I hope it's good, though a viking saga would not be complete without Russel Crowe in the lead--had Ridley Scott been able to convince him to take on "Kingdom of Heaven," it would have succeeded on the level of "Gladiator." Crowe is a throwback to the old breed that could carry an action (or any other) flick. Anyway, back to vikings and I'm wondering if Gibson's story is or is not based on the "Saxon Chronicles" books penned by Bernard Cornwell. He's written four of them, and I've read them all which concern the 9th century Dane and Norse raids and domination of Saxon England. Good reads--Cornwell is a pretty good storyteller and they're a bit illuminating on what life was like during that period. I also recommend his "Sharpe" series that takes place during the Napoleonic Wars and his book, "Agincourt" which is a helluva good telling of the famous battle, seen through the eyes of long bowman, Nick Hook.

Recently, I watched "The Vikings" on TCM, which stars Kirk Douglas (I think he turned 93 the other day) and Ernest Borgnine (also still alive and in his nineties), as well as Tony Curtis. To be brief, I don't think the film has held up well--it seems trite, overacted and sloppy today.

A couple of other viking notes: vikings did not wear the horned helmets that you often see depicted, most frequently on the heads of drunken Minnesota Vikings fans. Those would have quickly become a hindrance in battle, easily knocked off in close quarters combat. Instead, they did actually wear helmets with actual bird wings on the sides and other decorations that would not prove to be counterproductive while killing Englishmen. Also, the term viking actually means "raiding" so, to go viking meant to go on a raid. Vikings were raiders either from what is now Denmark, or the Norse lands of what is now Scandinavia. Their influence on life in England during the 800s was extremely extensive, influencing and effecting virtually everything that occurred on the island. Very similar, in fact, to the Comanche presence in Texas from around 1750 to 1870 where every consideration of the fledgling state and its settlement weighed the Comanche threat (read Fehrenbach's "The Comanches" if you ever want to read a kick ass history book). In fact, I think of vikings as really the Comanches of the British Isles. Not quite as mean and not nearly the horsemen the Comanches were, but hell on wheels, nevertheless.

GWTW: Still Humming

here's a piece on Gone With The Wind, now seventy years old and still going strong:
http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052748704779704574553710253199116.html. The first time I ever saw GWTW, I was around ten years old. Apparently, one of those nice movie theaters in Houston (most of them were subsequently razed) was showing the movie in a limited engagement which has been done in every decade since it was introduced. A couple of moms took several of us boys with them and we even had to wear coat and ties with the moms wearing nice dresses--the kind of thing people did when they went to the airport or downtown or whatever. I probably fidgeted through the entire thing, as the romance concept was a little above my pay grade at that point in life. Now, I'm always interested in seeing it and even took in the movie on the big screen at the Austin Paramount Theater a couple of years ago. All that said, I still can't stand Ashley Wilkes and wonder why women think so highly of Scarlett--I leave that up to the complicated machinations of the female mind.

Weekend's Here

Happy shopping. Maybe buy something in red. You know, it's the season for it.

Larry Herold

I went to school with this guy and stumbled upon this little piece he did for "Fringe:"
http://www.fringereport.com/art0906larryheroldwriter.php. Herold was the first guy I met when I went to college. After mom and dad left after helping me move stuff into my dorm room, I strolled to the lobby of Kokernot Hall and there was this guy bouncing a basketball, no doubt to annoy the resident assistant. Struck up a conversation, him asking if I could play and me replying in a manner that inferred that I was better than I really was which wasn't very good, at all. Fortunately, no sexual advances followed and we left it at that and I wandered off to seek hideous dining hall chow or to lust after some girl named, Melonie or Darlene from Muleshoe or Dibol or some other garden spot. Saw Larry off and on through the years--he became mutual friends with several fellow fraternity brothers. Great guy. We didn't know it then, but there were a lot of talented guys like Larry going to school at that small university. Sometimes, that talent translates into outward symbols of success but as often as not, it doesn't. Still, what guys like Larry possess enriches those around him or at least puts him on the "highly tolerable with good bullshit" side of the ledger.

The Dude

Short interview with Jeff Bridges, star of a new movie about a down and out country singer:
http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052748703558004574583883906058894.html. Looks like a good film. I like Bridges. Nobody saw it, but he was stellar in "Wild Bill," playing Hickock as one mean son of a bitch. That movie had a great look to it, too. The bar fight scene alone is worth watching it. With Bridges, though, his turn as "The Dude" in "The Big Lebowski" was pretty damn classic and it's tough to decide who's better in it--Bridges or John Goodman who is absolutely outstanding. Worth watching at least once a year.

Deadspin on Tigergate

This is interesting:
http://deadspin.com/5416948/chaos-in-tigerland-a-deadspin-investigation-into-the-sexual-habits-of-pro-athletes. A lot of shoes are dropping in this saga. Something tells me, there's still a closet full to fall.

The Menace Beneath Us

Or, as the Onion points out, children:
http://www.theonion.com/content/news/new_study_reveals_most_children. They're right about this, you know.

Ever see the movie treatment of Dennis the Menace that was done with Walter Matthau playing Mr. Wilson? I giggle every time I watch it. Some obvious physical humor but it's hilarious.

Hump Day: Holiday Bustle Edition

Been shopping? Me, neither. With each passing year, I have less inclination to do it. Like young Crystal here, I'd prefer to shop by mail.

Current Tiger Tally

Here's where we're at thus far:
http://www.holytaco.com/comprehensive-list-tigers-mistresses. Just trying to be of help on this urgent national news story. As you can see, I only consult the best of sources. Interesting thing is that none of the skanks stack up to the viking chick that Woods decided to marry (pictured here). Maybe he got bored with tales of raiding Saxon England or something causing the massive whore-trek. It's a working theory.

A-Z on Global Warming

Nice ditty by Varadarajan:
http://www.thedailybeast.com/blogs-and-stories/2009-12-06/exposing-copenhagenrsquos-hot-air/full/.

Awful cold this morning when I staggered out of the house to go work out. Could have used some more of that global warming thing.

Howard's Top 25

As reported by the love train that is EDSBS:
http://www.everydayshouldbesaturday.com/2009/12/08/howard-schnellenbergers-top-25-2/#more-13659. How can you not like Coach Schnellenberger after reading it?

Jews on the Move

Apparently, the NYT expresses astonishment that there are Jews outside of New Yawk:
http://www.slate.com/id/2237672/pagenum/2. That's similar to the traditional annual article you'll read there that registers amazement that while crime rates are trending downward, prison populations at the same time are moving upward.

Jamie Sneider (pictured here) is kosher with this post.

Tiger Saga Continues

This, from TMZ:
http://www.tmz.com/2009/12/08/tiger-woods-hospital-overdose/. Sounds plausible given the weird journey from his driveway to a tree. What's missing from this whole big mess of a story is David Feherty and his take on things. He probably knows a lot of off the record shit that he probably wouldn't mind going on record with now--it's not like Tiger opened up to him or anyone before, so why fear retribution, at this point? C'mon, David, we need you, you twisted, hilarious Irish former drunk.

Climate Fight Club

Here's a short debate on the global warming thing:
http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/news/science/eureka/article6933589.ece. We report, you decide. I'd like to read something along these same lines that went into a little greater detail. One thing about the global warming question: it seems to generate posts of this kind along with photos of young women at the beach. The controversy continues.

Paper Tiger

That's what his bank account is going to look like once Mrs. Tiger gets through with him. The whores are apparently coming out of the woodwork:
http://abcnews.go.com/Entertainment/tiger-woods-women-linked-alleged-affairs/story?id=9270076. Honestly, I don't see the marriage lasting though this. None of my business--I would congratulate them if they can navigate through the minefield of ho's. But, it's one thing if you've had a dalliance with someone--notice, the singular but when you've been banging cocktail waitresses two at a time ("The Fredo") it's kind of hard to put Humpty back on the wall, hump as you may. I don't entirely know about Tiger or what he was thinking beyond the obvious--these women look and appear to be common road skanks. You'd think some solid coin would maybe garner some better grade of glutes to hang onto but there you have it; the greatest golfer ever liked him some pancake waitresses and lounge whores and according to one, liked to "talk dirty" and be "rough." All of this before, during, and after Mrs. Woods was birthing him some babies. That sounds to me like, oh, maybe Tiger wasn't entirely pleased with certain aspects of his marriage (maybe, all?) so I'm guessing the next seven iron swung will be by the legal team of the soon to be ex-Mrs. Tiger Woods. They'll be taking one hell of a divot.

Letters

Fascinating site I saw linked somewhere else:
http://networkedblogs.com/p20198915.

Great stuff from Vonnegut, Eisenhower (especially about Patton), Lincoln, etc. and especially, the British foreign secretary in Moscow, writing about a friend from Turkey.

So, This is Christmas

A scholarly article about why December 25th is celebrated as Christmas:
http://www.bib-arch.org/e-features/christmas.asp. Read it and you'll be back where you began. Essentially, it's borrowed but no one is really sure--maybe from existing pagan holidays and maybe not. Two of the synoptic gospels mention Jesus' birth (the oldest, Mark, does not) and John is so apology driven that it's unreliable (my take). Not really important in the big scheme of things. I was thinking about Christmas this past weekend and how it's more of a winter celebration and a time of family joy (and sorrow) for everyone, even if you're not Christian. Sure, the songs feature Jesus and all, but the tunes are part of a familiar fabric that says lights and Christmas trees, and shopping (the horror) and all that goes with Xmas. We can count on the certainty of the "putting Christ back into Christmas" lectures from excitable ministers but that quickly passes and everyone resumes their happy march to an anticipation of hopeful seasonal happiness and the inevitable "Holy Shit!" when the January Amex bill arrives.

Went to get a real live Xmas tree yesterday. We've had artificial ones all these years until ol' dad finally got the red ass one day trying to step over the thing right in the middle of the storage shed and decided to unceremoniously haul it off to the dumpster. Mrs. Bulba had done some low level bitching about the artificial tree in previous years, so the issue had been simmering a little. Anyway, $115 lighter, I hauled a genuine 7 1/2 foot fir of some type (I think it was a "Noble" as in "how noble of you sir, to shell out that much cash for a dead tree you'll throw away in a few weeks") home and apparently successfully settled it into the tree stand. Of course, we couldn't locate the tree lights which meant a trek first to Loew's (sorry communist bastards had minimal lights in their inventory) and then to Home Depot where I completely overdosed and bought about 18 boxes more than we'll ever need. Yes, this is Christmas. Had to stand there and hold HOLD light strands as Mrs. Bulba wrapped them EXACTLY as specified in her PROPER CHRISTMAS TREE LIGHT STRINGING TECHNIQUE that she personally developed and has caused about twenty four arguments each and every year we've spent Xmas together (for the record, I'd rather be beaten with a board than hold curtains or Xmas lights and I'm not joking). Great fun.

Oh, one other thing. Can't stand "Season's Greetings" uttered aloud or in print. It's "MERRY CHRISTMAS, GODDAMNIT!" and I make a big effort to make sure that any card sent out this time of year says it. Doesn't matter what you are, if you take offense at hearing or reading that, I suggest Mecca or some other shithole would make a much better home for you.

Snuggle Time

Snow in Dallas? Houston? In the same week, hell, the same year? Time to find something to do that warms the bones. Oh, and someone to do it with...

Sailing

Here's a piece about Jessica Watson, a teenager who's currently doing a solo sea voyage, and other sailors who've done the same with often times dubious results:
http://www.rogersandall.com/jessica-jesse-joshua-and-the-cruel-sea/.

I don't know. I've read the entire 21 (or is it, 22?) books of the Patrick O'Brien "Aubrey Maturin" series as well as all of Forester's "Hornblower" books and other sailing stories like "Heart of the Sea" about the whale ship, Essex and stuff about Shackleford's expedition and I still don't understand sailing at all. Oh, I appreciate it and think I get the whole respect of the sea thing but if you asked me today how to sail a boat or what happens when you tug on a specific line, I have no clue--trying to make me understand the dynamics of the craft is like reasoning with a pig. Pathetic and sure evidence of a lame, public school education but there you have it. I'm really awful at the entire grasp of physics concept and knots and tying things have been a lifelong source of frustration to me and those unfortunate to have had to rely on me to properly secure the boat to the pier or securely tie something that you wish not to blow away from the top of a vehicle. My brother in law knows this and whenever we're approaching the dock after a fishing session, he'll station me somewhere clearly away from where we'll need to tie off, busying me with counting shrimp in the live well or getting him a beer or some other urgent task. I do know a couple of fishing knots and can tie them pretty well but that's about it. My old man (and my brother in law) was a master knot tier and seemed to have a knot for any occasion, like if you needed to affix a recently deceased bighorn ram along with a Dallas Cowboy cheerleader to a '68 straight six Chevy truck, he'd know what to do and would have a specific knot that he would expertly tie on that could be unfastened with a simple tug at one end. I always sat dully amazed, breathing out of my mouth watching the exercise. Whenever he'd retrieve the garden hose or a rope or anything similar, it would come back all neatly wound and ready for future deployment, unlike the tangled mass of misery you encounter when I'm on the job. Probably a good thing that Mrs. Bulba doesn't go in for the S&M stuff (I could probably be talked into it) or else we'd have to call the law to get her out of something I rigged up. Bastard knots--the world has profited by me not being at sea. Just like the help desk at Bondage, Inc.

Hump Day: Cold December Edition

Pull the sheets up this evening. It's chilly.

Alec Baldwin

Yeah, his political b.s. is a little out there, but he's one hilarious SOB:
http://www.manofest.com/Content/the-10-greatest-moments-in-alec-baldwin-history.html

JILFs

Have you thought about this?
http://www.details.com/sex-relationships/dating-and-cheating/200912/hot-jewish-girls-fetish-jilfs?currentPage=1 Apparently, Jewish girls are in, in a real big way. Good for them and shalom and all that.

I don't think that I ever consorted with a Jewish girl, though I was pretty much an equal opportunity consorter of girls back in the old days. When I was on a dig in Israel before my senior year in college, I was around a lot of nice Jewish girls and naturally, one hundred percent horny one hundred percent of the time. But, we goyem there on the dig site were kind of like forbidden fruit--you knew they were thinking the same thing we were thinking but they didn't want to be the first one on their block in the kibbutz to get knocked up by some redneck from Texas who looked like he may just have changed out of his SS uniform.

Sort of bad for the neighborhood, you know. Definitely not kosher.

I do know that there seems to be a shortage of eligible Jewish men and that mothers of Jewish girls get upset when a young tribesman dates a shiksah. Experienced this first hand when daughter #2 had a nice Jewish boyfriend for about a year--heard some snippy comments from Jewish moms about raiding on the tribe. It was sort of funny and you can probably guess that I didn't really give a shit so it was just mildly amusing and nothing else. I wouldn't object to a Jewish son in law at all as long as he didn't try to muscle me away from that pork rib I had my eyes on.

Pigs fly...

...and I agree with something that Thomas Friedman wrote:
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/11/29/opinion/29friedman.html?_r=1.

I think that he calls out the Arab world pretty well, something that needs to be done with regularity.

Kaplan on Afghanistan

Fred Kaplan says he doesn't know what to do in Afghanistan, laying out the pros and cons of both sides of the argument:
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/12/01/science/01tier.html. Essentially, it's a lot like the line delivered by the feather merchant after the Tet Offensive in "Full Metal Jacket": "It's a shit sandwich and we're all gonna take a bite." I guess it's admirable that Kaplan admits his fence sitting on the issue, though I'm guessing if W were still the president, Kaplan would be for whatever Bush was against and vice versa. Consider the source.

Science!

Excellent summation (in the NYT of all places) of the current controversy regarding the spin going on in the global warming arena:
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/12/01/science/01tier.html. The author, John Tierney makes several good points and neatly describes the smug, group think occuring within the global warming cabal. It's generally not a good idea to hide the truth ( except with national security or a sordid sexual episode or both) and the current exposure of data spin is most certainly going to keep getting larger and will maybe not deep six the global warming camp but it will definitely add to the growing camp of those suspicious of the current power elite, thus impacting the present administration and party in power in the United States. Ahem.

Same thing is going on with the spin factory with Tiger Woods and his attempt to thwart what everyone suspects; that the missus went ape shit over the National Enquirer report, taking a perfectly loft adjusted seven iron to Tiger and to Tiger's rear window and that now the Woods publicity machine is in 24/7 spin cycle to dismiss it as a "minor accident" of some sort. Listen to me, Tiger: it's much better to fess up right off the bat and get this behind you. Sure, you'll take a black eye but it will get all better. Now, the shit is getting higher and those wading boots may not be tall enough.

Tina Fey

I'm pretty sure there are more out there who find her somehow, hot. You know who you are. That Jane Krakowski is pretty good, too. Baldwin is hilarious. Too bad I don't get to watch "30 Rock" much.

Bennett on Sinatra

Tony Bennett talks about Frank Sinatra in this short piece:
http://www.vanityfair.com/culture/features/2009/08/tony-bennett200908.

I think that Sinatra nailed it when he stated the "honesty" part about singers. Regardless of the genre, the best are always the ones with an honest connection to the song and to the listener. Hank Williams, who he mentioned, is absolutely dead on in that regard. No one can touch him in the world of C&W, though there are other fine ones--George Jones, Johnny Cash, Waylon Jennings, Merle Haggard, etc. What passes for country today is something that I'm not sure you can classify. Mostly, however, it doesn't have anything resembling honesty. Same for pop or rock. Rap is probably honest to a great degree but has a limited connection and is horribly juvenile. Sure, that's a highly subjective take but it's poetry on a second grade level. Okay, so I'm digging a hole for myself, but there you have it. Just put me down in the "mostly doesn't relate" category on that and we'll call it a day.

Talking about music, I'll register a brief rant regarding the subject of bagpipes at funerals, particularly those in the United States. Listen up, we ain't Scotland or Ireland and a bagpipe at an American funeral is like a ham sandwich at a bar mitzvah. I guess somebody thought it was all tingly to hear "Amazing Grace" done by a bagpiper dressed in full kit but it really comes off as highly dishonest given that we're burying a guy born and raised in Tulsa or Provo or somewhere else that's pure U S of A and about as far away from that cold and damp part of the world that you can get. Somebody pull out a guitar or harmonica instead, or better yet, dispense with the music entirely and promptly head to the bar to properly send off old Uncle Bill. When I die, if you hear bagpipes, you'll know I pissed Mrs. Bulba off real bad and she's getting in a little payback.

David Guttenfelder, AP Photographer

Pictures shot by AP photog in Afghanistan:
http://blogs.denverpost.com/captured/2009/10/30/photographer-collection-david-guttenfelder-in-afghanistan/. Interesting pics.

Of course, the best war photography comes from World War II. Great photos from both theaters of combat. I think the best film footage ever done is from the kamikazi attacks on US naval vessels during the Marianas campaign. Impressive to watch.

Dandy Don, Thirty Miles of Hell, and Other Thanksgiving Musings

Great piece on Don Meredith that gets into a little more detail about his time with the Cowboys and what he's doing now:
http://www.dallasnews.com/sharedcontent/dws/dn/latestnews/stories/112609dnspomeredith.39
(Thanks to Ron Brand over at SnS for the link)
bdd5f.html
Interesting was why he threw in the towel so suddenly--like everyone else, I had assumed it was because he grew tired of playing under Landry's stiff regime. No, apparently, it was a family deal and it reminds that though these fellows made good money in their day, it wasn't something that was going to set them up for life. Nice to hear, also, his former teammates offering their support to Meredith and confirming that he was the toughest Cowboy of them all. Salud, Dandy Don.
Spent Thanksgiving in South Texas. My father in law died last Thanksgiving and one of the daughters thought it would be a fine idea to celebrate Thanksgiving at the ranch where he hunted for so many years. All fine and good except that the daughters were last at the ranch as children (they're in their forties and fifties now) and had no recollection of how remote and otherwise how ill equipped it is to accommodate thirty or so people for something like this. Best thing I could do was to simply go with the idiocy and not worry about who gets stuck trying to get into the ranch, how one transports hot turkey and dressing, etc. there, or how many arguments and outright screaming matches occur. To do this, I dropped off the females Wednesday evening at the Falfurrias Holiday Inn Express (actually quite nice) and headed out to the ranch to stay in the bunkhouse and to meet a couple of brothers in law and engage in outdoor urination and eating beef off the fire. Splendid. Woke up the next day, sat in a blind for a while, and then waited for the onslaught of the females and a few girly men who didn't want to rough it. All in all, it actually went well. My own girls got to see where dad used to run off to sometimes when they were kids. They got to ride around in the back of a truck (I got to drive around sipping a beer--can't recall the last time I had), everyone ate a lot of food, and no one was bitten by a snake or poisonous insect, or had a mesquite thorn go into their eye. A success.
Drove back at around 3pm on Thursday. Light traffic and everyone was getting along. Then, it hit. At somewhere around San Marcos, I heard and felt an unusual rumble. Not something typical. I fumbled for a Tums and dismissed it. Then, at before Buda, a distinct descent of something in my intestine downward occurred. Something like maybe a chunk of molten lava. In short, I needed to shit. But, we'd made it three hours without a stop and by God, dad wasn't going to stop now--I could make it...I thought. About thirty or so miles. Grit my teeth and get this thing done... I thought. There have been times in my life that I had an imminent discharge working but never in the history of gnashing molars was there one like this. I attempted every ruse known to man--deep breathing (for the record, I think that actually makes it worse), baseball, engaging wife in conversation, looking at things off the road, thinking about why the fuck seventy two virgins in heaven?, "Godfather" dialogue, trying to think of everyone I knew, but, not thinking about sex or other bodily functions or food or anything else that would only more intensely remind me that there was something large and sizzling and boiling and greasy and angry and it wanted out, OUT and I was fighting a pathetic rear guard action (get it?) to keep it in. Horrible beyond belief. I blew into town, exceeding the speed limit on any road I navigated by at least twenty miles per hour--at least. Finally, FINALLY pulled up to the curb, jumped out (leaving the family wondering just what in the hell was wrong with old dad) and did this sort of wobble trot to the toilet in the NICK of time let loose with an explosion that I'm pretty sure cracked the porcelain. Waves and waves of chocolate delight as I sat wondering is this what it feels like after you climb Everest? Don't know. Anyway, I pray, PRAY that this never repeats itself. But, just in case, I placed an old pair of khakis in the trunk.
Be prepared.

Hump Day: Pre-Turkey Day Edition

Global warming: how much is man made or due to nature, its own self? You be the judge. Otherwise, anything that encourages creative clothing options must not be that bad a thing. Enjoy your turkey and don't overlook the ice box for some other goodies.

Old Lesbians on Parade

No, not the hottie pictured to the right (more about her later) but the ones on this link that I saw on another site--a little dated but fun:
http://www.cracked.com/article_15788_top-25-men-who-look-like-old-lesbians.html

Don't particularly care for the militant types, driving their mini-trucks or Subarus with the obligatory NARAL sticker (fat chance of having to get one) but I get along just fine with lesbians, otherwise. They have great gym etiquette, play ready golf, and are generally ready to accelerate when the traffic light turns green. Not crazy about the look all that much. Except, however, the "lipstick" variety are easy on the eyes though you don't see them nearly as much as the girl-girl layouts in Penthouse would have you believe. There is that one commentator on the Golf Channel that falls into that category--won't name names but you know who I'm talking about. She's definitely birdie material.