The Hideousness of Flying

Here we have profiles of fliers and flying situations that you've all seen before:
http://www.slate.com/id/2252135. Reading this reminds me of why I hate, HATE to fly--I don't hate the up in the air flying part--it's the odious experience of entering the airport and what you have to endure once you're in the system--the delays, the shabby treatment, the awful behavior you witness, the obvious frailty of a system that is over-extended at always the wrong times. God, I've had some horrendous journeys. Not sure that I profile exactly under one of the many types described in the article but I do recall my wife and I once screaming (her in Spanish and me in English) in unison at corrupt and incompetent Mexico City gate personnel in order to absolutely squeeze the last four seats (we were travelling with the daughters) on the last flight out to Cancun. We were ultimately successful and I've never forgotten the poor schlubs that we out screamed who were destined to be thrown into the streets of the city, only to be further screwed, robbed, or set on fire or whatever. We've all got stories and I've got 'em in spades just like you do. Whenever I can, I try to go Southwest. Less bitterness in their work force and an overall more concerted effort to get you there in the expected time frame. All in all, though, I'd rather drive. Any day of the week. Tip: never fly Mexicana. Also, never connect through Mexico City. You can thank me for this advice.

One Mean King

Excellent book review:
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2009/11/19/AR2009111903942.html. They don't make despots like they used to.

Food for Thought

A tad lengthy, but well worth the effort:
http://www.foreignpolicy.com/articles/2010/04/26/attention_whole_foods_shoppers?page=full. A fairly good primer that should be required reading for anyone who has gone whole hog with the organic/locally grown food thing. Not sure if they can open their minds to it, but they should. As for me, I'll continue on my road to better living through the enthusiastic use of chemicals.

The Magnificent Ambersons and All

I actually sat on the couch Saturday night and watched Orson Welles' "The Magnificent Ambersons" which followed his groundbreaking "Citizen Kane." Ambersons is one of those movies that you're supposed to watch if you give a shit about movies, or films for those who are smarter than their teachers. It's essentially a story about a prominent Midwestern family that declines and falls, due to bad bidness decisions and an absolute rotten shit of a son who generally fucks up a lot. Critics like it because of the signature Welles camera shots, angles, triangles, etc. and apparently, the overall dramatic effort which they say was pulled off despite the evil studio types forcing Welles to cut an hour or so of footage that no doubt featured Joseph Cotten dressed as a sad clown descending a staircase with the shadows of a crackling fire in the background along with a carnival barker ordering dessert or something, all shown as flashbacks along with a homage to the victims of Guernica and a brief interview with Clara Bow on USC football recruiting. I'll praise it while at the same time publicly declaring my ignorance by saying that I think it's overrated. Praise in terms that the movie moves and is directed more astutely than most anything that you'll see coming out of Hollywood, with professional actors like Cotten and Agnes Morehead, who as an aside, I couldn't help but think was really hot looking. Overrated in that it's not that compelling of a story and Tim Holt seemed way in over his head in the central role as the jackass son. Just not that good (IMHO), so fire away if you feel differently--I'm open to being educated.

High marks for the closing credits--unique and I've never seen them done better. Yes, Welles degenerated quickly into a fat, drunken has been but there was no doubt that he had significant talent.

Stapme Stapleton, RIP

They don't make guys like Squadron Leader Stapme Stapleton anymore:
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/obituaries/military-obituaries/air-force-obituaries/7620215/Squadron-Leader-Stapme-Stapleton.html. He'd never make it in today's Royal Air Force--Stapme had far too much testosterone.

Wearing of the Gray, No Mas

Looks like the KA's will wear Confederate uniforms no more:
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20100422/ap_on_re_us/us_old_south_fraternity_3. It was a peculiar institution, the tradition of KA chapters donning gray uniforms during their traditional Old South week each spring, and as the world has turned, it became increasingly a source of trouble for all concerned--I'm surprised they lasted this long, even in the Deep South and Texas where people don't like being told what to do by their more progressive betters.

I happen to be a KA and participated in many Old South celebrations long ago, wearing some fairly horrible costume rebel unis. The coeds loved LOVED Old South--even the ones who were ostensibly progressive politically--there were (and are) few women who in the cold light of day can turn their back on the opportunity to replicate Scarlett O'Hara and slip into a hoop skirt and the overall kit of a southern belle. They could be screaming their lungs out at a rally opposing US force abroad or whatever and if someone whispered into their ear, "Hey, your KA friend, Thad wants you to go to Old South" they would immediately sprint SPRINT back to the dorm to get going on assembling the belle gear. Fact.

In the old days, we didn't think much of the whole enterprise in terms of Old South offending anyone. Battle flags were flown--hell, we even hauled down the Stars and Stripes and ran up the Confederate colors at the administration building to announce our yearly "secession from the university." We just thought it was fun and didn't think that we were oppressing anyone or hurting their feelings. Now, those days are gone. Gone with the wind powered turbines and hybrid cars. Or, just plain gone.

The New Faith

Talking about the new religion of environmentalism:
http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052702304510004575186343555831322.html?KEYWORDS=paul+rubin. Rubin is as right as rain on this. On. The. Money.

WTF?

Archie now has an "openly gay character," named Kevin to go along with the zany crew.
http://www.cnn.com/2010/SHOWBIZ/books/04/23/archie.gay/index.html?hpt=Sbin. I used to really like the Archie comics when I was a kid, especially Veronica who I considered highly flammable. Betty was okay and all but Veronica was the shit. It was always between her and an unnamed model in whatever current Sears catalogue lingerie section was on hand.

The Hood

This is one cool as shit trailer:
http://filmdrunk.uproxx.com/2010/04/at-my-signal-fire-up-the-grill. I hope, I pray that Ridley Scott is on his game because this thing looks like it could be ripping fun. I've been a Scott fan ever since "The Duellists" and he has rarely disappointed. Always a great eye for period detail and excellent with the camera. His teaming with Crowe is a great fit--should have had him on "Kingdom of Heaven" instead of that skinny, sad fellow.

Damning

That's what you'll think after reading this gripping account of what went down when the Al Qaeda agent blew himself up along with seven Americans on December 30th:
http://www.gq.com/news-politics/politics/201004/dagger-to-the-cia?printable=true. Outstanding piece. In GQ, for crissakes.

Workers of the World Unite...

...and stuff. Some propaganda for you:
http://www.cracked.com/article_18464_the-17-most-unintentionally-hilarious-propaganda-posters.html. I miss the Soviets, both for their always excellent and idiotic propaganda and for the routine massive explosions at arsenals, fuel dumps, and military installations, set off by a drunken guard lighting a hideous Russian cigarette next to or sometimes inside a warehouse filled with nitro. Great space disasters, too. Now, we only have waves of Russian female tennis players--all of them tall, blond, calculating, and no doubt armed with knives and cyanide. Vicious, the whole lot of them.

More from the Sports Beat

Lorena Ochoa is retiring:
http://nbcsports.msnbc.com/id/36666139/ns/sports-golf/. This is damn bad news for the LPGA--Ochoa was/is a certifiable star and bad news for me since she was my favorite to watch whenever I tuned into a women's event. She always came off to me as a real sportswoman and a nice gal but I recently saw her pound the green after a missed putt which in light of this development, tells me she's had too much on her plate with the recent birth of her child and being a step mom to three kids since she married the Aeromexico big shot. Guess that dinero isn't a problem, so this announcement may indeed be for keeps. This now means I'll have to find someone else on the LPGA to follow. I like Michelle Wie's swing but not much else about her. Gulbis and Creamer aren't really my cup of tea, either. And, watching the Koreans is as exciting as snapping green beans.

Baseball Demands Good Ass

Apparently, on its ballplayers:
http://www.slate.com/blogs/blogs/browbeat/archive/2010/04/08/what-can-you-learn-from-staring-at-a-baseball-player-s-butt.aspx?obref=obnetwork. Essentially, some wise heads in baseball think that if a player doesn't have a nice ass, he ain't going to make it. Buck Showalter, a former major league manager, buys into this and thinks Derek Lee of the Cubs has the hottest butt in the game. If you haven't yet bought into the notion that baseball is a peculiar game with some long standing traditions and lore, then I guess you're now on board.

I played baseball and don't have much of an ass which is now understandably why I never amounted to anything in the game past high school. There's also the thing about not being able to hit a curve ball very well but that obviously pales in comparison to lacking in the ass department.

I would post a photo of the ass-intensive Derek Lee--he's really a good guy and a great ballplayer but he also happens to play for the Cubs, a team that I despise as much as the Yankees, the Red Sox, the former Soviet Dynamo, the Cy-Fair Bobcats, and the current North Korean Army Bayonet squad. Instead, here's one of Jason Jennings, now toiling in the A's minor league system and formerly of the Rockies, Astros, and Rangers. I watched him when he pitched for Houston and he had an enormously large butt for a white guy along with an overall shitty attitude. That made it easy to call him "lard ass." I would watch Jennings getting shelled yet again and yell, "Lard Ass!" at the television. Advice: don't do this at the exact same moment the missus enters the room. This, I now know.

Chelsea. Lately.

Took Mrs. Bulba to the Chelsea Handler show/appearance/thingy at the Bass Concert Hall in Austin on Friday. In case you don't know about Ms. Handler, here's a recent Slate piece:
http://www.slate.com/id/2249607/. Handler has a show on the E! network on weeknights and is doing a concert tour to promote another new book she has out chronicling her exploits as a semi-drunken whore. She's pretty funny. The opening act was Joe Koi(y?) who was on his game--not sure if Chelsea really topped him, so to speak. Lots of twenty and thirty something females along with a smattering of husbands/dates and a strong showing by the local gay male population that excelled at making really gay hand gestures. I'm not sure that I saw anyone older than me. I've noticed that whenever I'm at one of these things where there are a lot of young women around, it's easy to tell that they think of you as the "safe dad like figure" which gives them a kind of a sense of peace of mind in case a flat needs to be repaired or money needs to be loaned or "can you pretend you're my dad so that the creepy guy over there will leave me alone" or whatever. Ah, age. Anyway, the missus seemed to enjoy herself which is good because I dropped a shit load of cash on this deal--comedy ain't cheap, at least a hot act like Handler's.

What Sarah Wants

Slate talks about Palin with the latest "discovery" of her appearance requirements and also compares her to Al Gore and others:
http://www.slate.com/id/2250799/. I'll be brief here: I decided some time ago that I don't care for Sarah Palin and I wish she would go away. There's no doubt there's a lot of people like that. People who thought there was a fairly concentrated effort to screw her in terms of coverage and make some unfair pronouncements about her and discounted what she did in Alaska and begrudged her for aspiring to bigger things. Yeah, I guess I'm like that. But, I don't like seeing someone on so big a stage as she still commands with so little apparent foundation in terms of the context of the issues of the day...and day's past. Plus, I can't stand her voice and will redirect any radio or television to any other station on earth including Lifetime and Bravo and WGN or even the Pyongyang Daily Worker in order to just not have to listen to her. Side note: there's a guy who works out at the same gym as I do that upon arriving, will take the remote from the front desk and change the three televisions in front of the elliptical machines to MSNBC and will also change the TV in the men's dressing room to the same channel. He wears a "MoveOn.org" t-shirt and a bandana tied in a scarf over his head each time I see him and he seems always to be in ill humor about things. Maybe he doesn't like Sarah Palin's voice, either.

All that said, I appreciate those clever folks with Photoshop. You know, I thought that was a pool cue she was holding but on closer inspection it appears to be a yard stick. Don't know if I would measure up or not.

"Feed me, Mandrake"

Another excellent little piece from the WSJ, this time on one of the left's favorite in a long line of notorious knuckle draggers, General Curtis LeMay:
http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052702303348504575183892640976132.html?KEYWORDS=curtis+lemay. Supposedly, George C. Scott's over the top and deliciously hilarious character in "Strangelove," General Buck Turgison(sp) was based on LeMay. I don't know--LeMay was a pretty damn serious cat and scared the living shit out of the Soviets for a long while there when he was running SAC. I'm fairly certain that LeMay would have never allowed the Soviet ambassador to see the "big board." Take a look at the photo: is that a guy you want to fuck with before breakfast? I think not and neither did the Soviets who had no choice but to drink.

Sorry for the last obscure NL reference.

Where's Pancho?

No one is sure where Villa's body (and head) can be found:
http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052702303828304575179683387497278.html?KEYWORDS=pancho+villa. A pawn shop in El Paso thinks it has a finger but that could be just the work of nihilists.

Taunting Update

The brilliant and quite insane dudes over at EDSBS are so up in arms and generally snot slinging pissed about the NCAA's new taunting rule that kicks in for the 2011 season that they're even channelling Voltaire:
http://www.everydayshouldbesaturday.com/. Essentially, the refs will be able to call back touchdowns if it's thought that taunting occurred prior to the score. Generally, I'd be solidly okay with something like this--never have been too keen on "U" type behavior on the football field but this thing is rife for bone headed decision making by bone headed refs at exactly the wrong time in order to royally screw your favorite team. I'm pretty good at surveying refs before a game and can tell you which ones carry the bonehead gene and are prone to blowing calls with wild abandon. Virtually every officiating crew has at least one--the kind of guy who spends most of his week annoying anyone he comes in contact with before being unleashed on Saturdays to infuriate anyone participating or watching a game. Afterwards, he's pleasantly happy with himself, stopping off at Appleby's and then listening to his Paul Harvey Anthology cassettes during the three plus hour drive back to Vidor. His long suffering wife will have left all the lights out, hoping HOPING that he'll trip and break his head or be fatally bitten by an asp or escaped primate. You know the type.

Dickens on a Thursday

I started reading this piece on Charles Dickens and began thinking that the writer has a curiously familiar style. Don't look--see if you can spot the culprit. Anyway, Dickens' works reflect greatly on his particularly dreary childhood and he wasn't particularly progressive in his thoughts toward his fellow man throughout his life.
http://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/print/2010/04/the-dark-side-of-dickens/8031.

The best "visual" of Dickens' London that I've seen is at the Museum of London. Within the museum they've constructed a street depicting the meanness of the period and it really brings forth a feel for what it must have been to live there in that period. Except, of course, you don't get the smell aspect. Now, that would really bring the place to life.

Hump Day: Bad Driver Edition

I've had a completely shitty day topped off by having to slam on my brakes to narrowly avoid complete morons not once but twice in a single afternoon. The considerable contents that were once on my front passenger seat are all now in an interesting jumble on the floor mat.

I have no idea if the young woman pictured here is a bad driver or not. If you run into her, let me know.

Ivan Goes to Paris

A new book out that revisits Bonaparte's disastrous campaign against Mother Russia:
http://bnreview.barnesandnoble.com/t5/Reviews-Essays/Russia-Against-Napoleon/ba-p/2359. The take here is that contrary to Tolstoy, it wasn't the noble Russian peasant that carried the day against trained professional soldiers but rather the sorry state of French supply lines along with some fairly well executed logistical plans on the part of the Tsar's military which proved to be the reason that the Russkies eventually watered their horses in the Seine.

More so than people want to think, it often comes down to which army could feed its men and "could get them there first" (see Forrest, Nathan B.). Lee's inability to succeed with his invasion of the North at Gettysburg may have come down to a lack of water on the second day of the battle in July, 1863. During the action at Little Round Top, a detail of men carrying the empty canteens of the Alabamians walked right into a Federal picket and were captured. Could be that successive charges by men exhausted and delirious with thirst were the reason for the failure to take the objective and secure victory as much as or maybe more than Chamberlain's famous and desperate charge that made him a legend. That's what makes things so precarious, expensive, and historically untenable in Afghanistan--logistics. How long can you sustain an army in the field in such a place? The answer is certainly not forever or even that long.

England and Breakfast

An interesting Sunday Times article on the traditional English breakfast and how it and England are both changing as the face of the country changes:
http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/life_and_style/food_and_drink/eating_out/article7090738.ece?print=yes&randnum=1271146469218. Not earth shattering if you grew up over here and have seen the evolution of breakfast to unlimited offerings but it is sort of a big deal there. I've had the traditional English breakfast many times, mostly at guest houses in Bath and other places--I don't recall beans or hash browns with it, but certainly the bangers and fried eggs and sickly cooked tomato all with the smell more or less of burning grease. That's the one thing that I noticed--when I smell breakfast on the way here, it's an inviting aroma. It seemed over there that it was more a smell of someone spilling grease on the burner. Anecdotal and being a big breakfast fan, I'll always be willing to give a full English another try on my next visit.

Certified Badass

Talking about then Col. Robin Olds and his
Vietnam War exploits, discussed here in this review of a new book out on the stud pilot and All American hellraiser:
http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052702303382504575164841740414472.html?KEYWORDS=robin+olds. The review points out that Olds actually flew around 150 missions, well over the specified limit of 100. I had heard that he did the extras after he had reached 100 but the WSJ piece says it was before. Anyway, now we don't have the opportunity to see another Robin Olds; what with no real air force to challenge us unless Obama decides to duke it out with the Israelis. Also, the Tailhook deal seems to have flushed a lot of the testosterone out of the pilot fraternity which is maybe at odds with the whole highly A personality driven profession that is being a fighter jock. Lots of stuff has been written about this both pro and con so I won't regenerate that debate. Olds bit the dust a few years back and it's a crying shame that I didn't get to spend an evening with him and a bottle of good scotch.

Baseball Happenings

Here's something regarding the current series between the St. Louis Cardinals and the Houston Astros:
http://www.spikesnstars.com/2010/04/12/mudville-or-something-like-it/. Not real heavy duty stat geek stuff--just some random neuron firings regarding a team that's headed to nowhereville this season. That's a fact of life sometimes in any sport--that your team will sometimes (or many times) suck and there's little that you can do about it other than be a shitty fan and go buy a Red Sox hat and become another bandwagon turd. I admire people who decide to support their hometown team, be it some unlucky bastard from Cleveland or Minneapolis or wherever. That guy is a fan and not some front runner. The good thing about baseball is that you can sort of disappear during the season if things get uninteresting or whatever and come back and you'll still be able to find your team playing ball. I'll admit that's happened to me before when life got complicated. Anyway, baseball's here for a pretty good spell now, not to be replaced until September by the glory that is college football. Even then, I still enjoy pouring over the box scores each morning all the way until the season's done. For guys I don't like, I'm always hoping to find that they had an 0-5 game with an error and were later ejected for generally being a dickhead. For players I'm partial to, it's always nice to see they had a 3 for 4 game with a dinger and a couple if ribbies.

Dirty Dozen

A member of the unit that the movie was based (I didn't know it was actually based on a real life unit) has died:
http://www.foxnews.com/us/2010/04/12/member-unit-linked-dirty-dozen-dies-pennsylvania/?test=latestnews. Apparently, they were referred to as "The Filthy Thirteen" at the time they were parachuted into Europe in advance of the invasion.

Bombed

No, not drunk but this is some seriously funny shit:
http://thisisphotobomb.com/. Some of these made me cry. You know, in a good way. Not in the way when Mrs. Bulba once threw away a pair of my favorite boots because she thought they were, "Gross." She's also bad about tossing my underwear that she determines is too worn or whatever--the kind that may have a few holes here and there but has cotton that has reached a perfect texture through a thousand washings along with incalculable exposure to powerful gasses that assist in the process. She also enjoys throwing away the newspaper before I've read all of it, or some golf magazine that I intend to read, attempting to decipher some swing sequence labeled "Yes" and "No" which I can never figure out along with "inside" or "outside" paths or whether I need a "high" or "low" spin rate on the golf ball matched with my swing speed or really any of that golf advice shit you see which, of course, begs the question of just why in the hell I get the damn golf rags anyway? Mostly, I think, it's for the article every now and then by Jenkins or Feherty or someone who really gets it as far as golf goes in that most or all of that technical stuff matters only to the gnostics on the tour and that for us wretched unwashed the best thing to do is to just spray it and play it and have a beer or two along the way. I'd throw in something about tobacco products but I'm currently on the wagon there, so I'll just say what makes golf (and bowling and fishing and dominoes and throwing washers, etc.) great is that you can quite happily drink and smoke or dip or chew while engaged in the process.

Go tee (and light) it up this weekend. And tell your wife to leave your underwear alone unless she's assisting in taking it off.

Bogart on the Loose

They don't make drinkers like Humphrey Bogart anymore. Here's proof: http://www.moderndrunkardmagazine.com/issues/01-05/0105-bogart.htm.

Near the end of the piece, Rich points out the various theories of scores of biographers and others of why Bogart hit the bottle so hard but the answer was far more simple--he drank because he liked to. After reading this, I'm thinking of throwing down a pitcher of martinis at lunch and returning to work to in order to observe the results. I'm guessing it won't be pretty.

Bad Statues

Slate has a review of some of the world's ugliest statues:
http://www.foreignpolicy.com/articles/2010/04/05/the_world_s_ugliest_statues. Awful for sure. Mexico has a lot of statues, most of them hideous and you'll see them in profusion in even the smallest of cities. One of the shittiest statues out there is off Commerce Street in San Antonio of labor leader, Samuel Gompers. Gompers is depicted as standing tall over a throng of ordinary workers clamoring for his help. In fact, it appears that Gompers is, instead a hideous mongoloid ape creature clad in an ill fitting suit who is preparing to stomp the living shit out of a race of smaller, simian like creatures clamoring for food pellets or something. Also, the finish on the statue is a cross between urine and and what exits a scoured calf. Look for it the next time you're down there.

Buck Up

So says David Brooks, resident " conservative" voice normally found on the NYT op ed page, here pronouncing a recent book on healthy fertility rates as an indicator that the future looks bright for those of us in these here Estados Unidos: http://www.nytimes.com/2010/04/06/opinion/06brooks.html.

Speaking of "healthy" and "fertility," I had a conversation with a friend yesterday about young women of today versus the old days of our misspent youth where we essentially agreed that breasts seem more substantial now. All anecdotal of course, but our keen powers of observation seem to conclude that better diets combined with healthier living habits, working out, etc. contribute to a solid improvement in the cleavage department, no doubt assisted by technological advances in under wired cup holders. Anyway, good for young women and good for young (and not so young) men, too. I suggest dark or mirrored sunglasses--they're quite helpful in the surveying process. Especially, if the missus is nearby.

Climate Change

Fairly long but interesting summary on the current state of affairs in the global warming arena:
http://www.spiegel.de/international/world/0,1518,687259,00.html.

Casts and Blasts

Was down at South Padre this past weekend, or "The Island" as it's referred in these here parts, to do a little R&R with some of Mrs. Bulba's side of the family. Actually purchased and consumed two (2) cans of Schlitz beer--they were in a cooler beside the door at Jim's Pier where I was loitering with my brother in law, Rick, swapping lies and insults with guides and other local drunks. He likes frequenting Jim's to mostly irritate the younger guys who are hoping he'll divulge where he's catching fish (Rick is a seriously good bay fisherman). Essentially, wherever he tells them he's having success is pretty much directly across the Laguna Madre from where he actually was--he's kind of like the "Nokoya Comanche" referenced in "The Searchers." As Ethan Edwards said of them, "Man tells you one thing, he means another." That's Rick when it comes to where you should point your boat the next day. Anyway, I stuck the Schlitz in the cooler on Rick's boat and found them the next morning when we were on our way out to wherever it was that Rick decided we should go--I have no idea and have a generally poor sense of direction on the bay--so he really doesn't have to blindfold me or anything. He knows his secrets are safe with Bulba aboard. So, at about 7:30AM we pulled into our first destination, "Horsehead" (there's a tip for you) and set up a drift and I set up a Schlitz--it was as good as time as any to do something stupid aboard the boat and you can always count on me for some idiotic stunt on the water. Schlitz, as you are very well aware, was once one of the big three of American beers but you're hard pressed to even find one now. Horrible bidness decisions have rendered them a virtual non entity and you're lucky to find a twelve pack or two squeezed into the edge of the lower priced beers at your local grocer--they are highly marginalized. I looked at their site and it actually proclaims that they have returned to their "sixties formula" and have hired a '68 Playboy pinup gal for their ad campaign. Okay. Anyway, I popped the Schlitz and it immediately struck me as having a taste and smell that I remembered from earlier years--hoppiness maybe? Whatever it was/is it wasn't entirely awful. After boating a trout (yes, by Rick) we headed over to an old "go to" spot that I actually remembered quite well from the old days when I actually fished a lot and could call myself a fisherman. It's hard to get to and then requires a hike overland to a back channel (I'm wearing wading boots that are about twenty years old) but the reds were there and we proceeded to limit out in well under an hour of happy work. A few hero shots from Rick's disposable camera, including one with the second Schlitz proudly in view and then we headed back as masters of our dominion, or at least of some unfortunate redfish who yielded to the temptation of a red and white on a quarter ounce jighead. I guess you can go home again after all.