Happy Memorial Day
Hope everybody is having a great Memorial Day and taking full advantage of the long weekend (if you’re lucky enough to get today off from work).
Let’s not forget why we’ve had the freedom to enjoy the good life for over 200 years.
Ahh, That Smoky Meat Taste…
More grilling tonight, since our weather is absolutely beautiful this weekend…because few things in life are better than meat cooked over an open flame. Chicken, steaks for Cindy (since she eats no bird), and scallops, along with rosemary potatoes and corn on the cob and a green salad. Life is good.
Does it get any better than this? Not often.
And yes, since you asked, damn near everything on that grill is wrapped in bacon. Because the tasty pig just brings so much to the party. Sorry, Doc.
Problem Solved
It’s no secret that I thoroughly dislike the TSA. This is not because I think the terrorist threat they claim to be guarding against is insignificant or unlikely; quite the contrary, in fact. I simply view the TSA’s intrusive antics as so much Kabuki theater – it looks impressive while you’re sitting there watching, but there sure isn’t much substance behind the masks.
I believe I have found a better way.
Instead of going to great and inconvenient lengths to scope, scan, x-ray and pat down everyone getting on every airplane in the United States in an attempt to keep weapons from getting aboard, let’s go to the other extreme. I’ve said for a long time that if the airlines would just let guys like me go armed on their aircraft, they wouldn’t have to worry about terrorists anymore – armed citizens would make short work of anyone stupid enough to try to hijack their plane. So why not do away with the pre-boarding security checkpoints entirely, and actively encourage travelers to carry firearms, OC spray, knives, etc. onto the aircraft?
I know, I know. “But Mike!” I hear you saying. “That would just invite trouble! The bad guys would also be armed! There would be indiscriminate fighting and killing in the friendly skies! Chaos would result!”
Well, maybe it would. Maybe the aisles of airliners everywhere would run red with the blood of innocents. Or maybe, just maybe, the knowledge that anyone trying to hijack the aircraft would be up against an unknown number of armed passengers, all ready and willing to defend themselves and their fellows, would act as a more potent deterrent than a bunch of blue-shirted circus clowns peering suspiciously into everybody’s shoes.
The airlines would save loads of money on security, and could even pass that savings on by creating incentives for travelers to arm themselves in the common defense. How about half-price tickets, or free upgrades, or extra travel points, for any passenger showing a CCW when they check in at the airport?
I might even be willing to fly more often if they did that. And I’d sure feel safer on an airplane than I do now.
Friday Night Music
Lessons I Wish People Would Learn
Most of us realize that age doesn’t necessarily confer wisdom. Less well understood is the fact that age doesn’t necessarily equate to responsible adulthood, either. In the interest of making everything easier for us all, here’s a few life lessons I wish everybody would hurry up and learn so we can get on with the important stuff.
Life isn’t fair. Whoever told you it is, lied to you. Shut up and deal with it. (Or, as the Duke would say, “Life is hard. Harder when you’re stupid.”)
No one owes you anything. There are no free rides in this world. Want something? Be prepared to work for it. If you don’t like this, refer back to the first lesson.
Just because you have a cell phone doesn’t mean you need to be on it all the time. Oh, and if you do have to take a call while you’re out in public, or in a place of business, use your inside voice. The rest of us don’t want to hear your conversation. Better yet, call that person back later. Whatever they want can’t be that important.
I don’t want to hear your story. What impulse causes people to walk up to a total stranger and start talking about themselves? This may come as a rude shock, but you’re not nearly as cool and interesting as you think you are. Be quiet and get out of my hair.
Self-esteem is not the same as self-respect. Self-respect comes from having accomplished something worth doing, and like the respect of others has to be earned. Self-esteem is nothing more than your inner three-year-old petulantly stomping his little foot and screaming, “I really AM special! I am I am I am!” And yes, people can tell the difference.
Your brother-in-law is not an expert. Do your own research and learn the facts before you make a fool of yourself in public based on what “somebody” told you is true.
And last, but certainly not least, you are responsible for the consequences of your own actions. Accept the fact that whatever problems you have in your life, you most likely caused yourself. Trying to blame everything on somebody else just makes you look like a whiner. No one likes a whiner.
A Good Friend Bails You Out of Jail. A REALLY Good Friend Shoots You in the Leg.
A guy in New York decided he really, really wanted to know what it feels like to be shot. So what did he do?
Why, he got his friend to shoot him, of course.
Grandview Outdoors – State police say the shooting occurred Sunday in the rural town of Stockholm when 25-year-old Shawn Mossow gave in to his friend’s repeated requests and shot him once in the right leg with a .22-caliber rifle.
The 24-year-old man is expected to make a full recovery. Police haven’t released his name.
Mr. Stupid that did the shooting has been arrested and charged with reckless endangerment. I don’t want to overburden poor Sir Knight, but low-hanging fruit like this is just too good to pass up. Tell it, Sir Knight:
And folks, I know I’m preaching to the choir here, but remember those Four Rules? Yeah. Apparently they don’t get stuff like that in Stockholm.
We Might Have a Winner
One of the things that has long chafed me about our society is just about everybody’s unwillingness to stand up and take responsibility for their actions. Everything is somebody else’s fault; everyone wants someone else to help them out of the messes they’ve made. But Tennessee resident Desmond Hatchett has achieved an absolutely astounding new low.
Seems Mr. Hatchett – who has fathered 30 children with 11 different women – is petitioning the state of Tennessee for financial assistance to help pay his court-ordered child support obligations. Because, you know, a minimum-wage job just doesn’t pay enough to take care of all that.
The money quote? This moron told a local TV station, “I didn’t intend to have this many children. It just happened.”
Wait a minute. “It just happened”? An immaculate conception, thirty times? The dude’s 33 years old. Do you mean to tell me he doesn’t know where the babies come from? I don’t honestly see how the taxpaying citizens of the great state of Tennessee should have to pay for his irresponsibility.
And the women hold a certain degree of culpability for this as well, in my humble opinion. Last time I checked, it takes two to make babies…and either one of them could just as easily have chosen to keep their pants on instead of becoming a leech on society. Given people’s tendency to talk about each other, I have a hard time believing none of these women knew of Mr. Hatchett’s propensity for fathering children he can’t (or won’t) support. Hell, he had multiple children with some of them. Let’s see – you had one child with this guy, and he’s not supporting you or the kid, so…you go and let him get you pregnant again? What were you thinking?
I for one hope the state doesn’t give this jackass one thin dime. Let him and his girlfriends face the consequences of their actions like the adults they claim to be.
(Even the Knight knows where babies come from. And he doesn’t want 30 of them. See? He’s got his pants on.)
Time to Fire Up the Grill
Since we’ve got nice warm weather (read “100 degrees already and it’s not even June yet”) here in southern Nevada, I figured this would be a good afternoon to unleash the awesome power of the grill. Nothing screams, “Summer’s coming!” quite like pork ribs cooked nice and slow in the oven and then finished off on the grill with a liberal dose of Sweet Baby Ray’s Sweet and Spicy sauce. Some potato salad, a big pile of steamed fresh brussel sprouts as a token nod to nutrition, and life is so very good tonight.
Tasty Pig, meet the One True Sauce. Mr. Sauce, Mr. Pig. This looks like the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
What’s that? Oh, the beer? Glad you asked. That’s Sam Adams East-West Kolsch. It’s light and refreshing, not too hoppy, with a very faint citrus note that makes it taste awfully good on a hot day like today.
Hope your dinner was this good.
Suddenly I Feel Middle-Aged
It’s that time of year again, when a young man’s fancy turns to thoughts of trout fishing. That’s right…my annual trip to Bishop is coming up very quickly indeed. Thinking about it last night, I realized that I made my very first Bishop trip in 1988, which by my calculation makes this my 25th year going fishing up there.
Who's that punk kid? Oh, it's Mike with his first Bishop Creek trout in 1988.
Holy crap! Am I actually old enough to have done anything besides breathe for 25 years in a row? That’s a little scary, somehow.
As long as no one expects me to grow up and act my age, I guess it’ll be okay.
Friday Night Music
