Great photos!

I've been to some of these places.
Dauphin Island, Alabama was on my Summer Tour!


http://www.theatlantic.com/infocus/2012/09/america-50-states-in-50-photos/100372/

That's exactly the type of Go-Getter we need around here.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-devon-19661144

First, I would like to say, I really admire your moxy.

It's just that type of gettin' it done attitude that built this great nation, and personally, I'd like to see a heckuvalot more of that spirit.

It's that "Can do", "don't wait for the home office to tell me to do it, just get started", "sometimes it's better to ask for forgiveness rather than wait for permission" drive that our country was founded upon.

Do you think George Washington was issued a permit to cross the Delaware River?
Do you think he had a long conversation with Human Resources about using cover letters for the TPS Reports?

Hell No!

He threw some guys in a boat, added a musket or two, probably a little coffee, (maybe with a shot or two of whiskey to keep him warm) (I'm not judging - it was a different time), and Wa-f'ing-Lah! a nation is born.

That's the problem now a days (and, incidentally what I like about the motorcycle).
Everything has to be safe.
Everything has to be approved, and verified, and tested, and notarized, and issued in triplicate, and God forbid, your precious snowflake get on his tricycle without a helmet and sun screen and impact resistant safety glasses AND a bottle of water.
Holy Christ ona Stick!!! Your neighbors would call the State Department and have you deported!!

I am not exaggerating when I say that I spent three quarters of my childhood in the trunk of a Dodge Duster, for cryin' out loud!
And, look at me!!!
Perfectly fine.
(Maybe that's a bad example, but still....)

"The Source of the Trouble" bought a green Dodge Duster sometime in the '70's and proceeded to drag the 4 of us boys all over central Florida until she finally killed the poor car.
Do you think she stopped to ask the salesman how many of her offspring could be reasonably expected to survive anything beyond a fender bender in the local Winn Dixie parking lot?
Hell no!!
She had things to do and ensuring the continuation of her DNA into a third generation did not make the list.

Let me do the 1970's math for you:
Cars of that era had something called a "transmission hump" running down the center of the car.
It's literally where the transmission and drive shaft are located underneathe the car and everything else is built around it, making that spot the most uncomfortable, with the least room, and if you were the youngest, guess where you sat?
Did you guess, A.  Transmission Hump, ?

Congratulations.

I was the youngest, so guess were I would've sat if I were raised by normal people?
Right, again:  Transmission hump.

BUT, this was my family, and we were not normal (Abby, Abby Normal, I believe.  Yes, that sounds right.  Abby Normal.) because there were 4 boys plus "The Source of the Trouble".
That's five peoples for what was really designed to be a 4 seat car.

BUT, what about WaWa and her daughter?
Where will they sit?

Good question:  let me answer, in part, by telling you what a WaWa is.

A WaWa is a Vietnamese immigrant, who managed to survive that little police action now referred to as, "The Vietnam War" (copyright applied for) and make it to these United States with her daughter in tow AND who, one day, out of the blue, called "The Source of the Trouble" and said:

"Yukumget NOW!  I no live hier NOmor.  Kumget!  NOW!!!   I stay you Now."

Or words to that effect.

So, with the addition of WaWa and child, there were now 7 peoples for 4 seats.
I'm not sure how long they lived with us.
It might've been a month or maybe five years.
I have no idea.
But I'm sure if she had known what she was signing herself up for she might have skipped that last flight out of Saigon and taken her chances with the commies.

"WhyU du?  Whys wrong choo?  WhyU Du tha?  Whys wrong tha leeetle won?  Whyso skeeeny?
U drivinMe Klazy NOW!!

But WAIT!
THERE'S MORE!!

Because, if Auntie M was visiting that meant my cousins would be visiting also.
And that's 3 more.  Auntie M + 2 kids.

AND, that's not to mention any additional hanger's on who showed up for dinner and stayed indefinitely after.

Is it taco night?
Add Keith.

Is it pizza night?
Add Bradley.

Or Fred.

Or Dale.

And THAT's not to mention The Chief and Little Bobby who started coming around about that time as well.

You get the idea.
There were lots of people and only room for 5.

What's a woman to do when she's got all these kids'n'things and so little space?

"The Source of the Trouble" was unfazed.

"Well, I have 117 kids and only room for a dozen or so in the passenger compartment BUT, ya' know, there's all that unused space IN THE TRUNK!

But, "Source of the Trouble", I have to ask:

Will it be SAFE to put small children in the trunk of a green Dodge Duster?

I mean, it's hard to argue with your observation about the space back there, what with only there being a spare tire and the tire iron and whatnot, but I'm just wondering, just thinking out loud here, about, you know, the lack of seat belts?
And, ventilation.
And, this is Florida.
It could get hot back there.
You know?

Because it's the trunk of the car.

Where you would put, you know, ummm......... luggage.

Or groceries.

Maybe a box of old clothes for Good Will.

But, USUALLY, umm, usually, not small children.

No.

No, I mean.......I don't mean to be a stickler for the "Rules" and all but, I'm not sure that the Chrysler Corporation had small children in mind when they were designing the trunk of this car.


"tSotT"  -
 Wow.
Ummm....I had no idea you were going to get OSHA involved in this, your Highness.
Jeez, I'm So Sorry, Mr. Rockefeller, but your fleet of limosines is out being laundered and weren't available today.
I was just going to throw some kids in the trunk, maybe strap one or two to the hood, and strike out for the Gulf of Mexico for the weekend BUT OOOoooohhh NOoooo......now you're going to add all this red tape to the process.
Well, you know if you're going to be like THAT your majesty, why don't we just wait here for your Royal Unicorn to FLY YOU TO THE BEACH!?!"

Well, I was just sayin' that maybe that, all things being considered, that the trunk isn't the BEST place for the tykes to be transported on the interstate highway system.

"tSofT" -
Do you think the pilgrims stopped to ask about ventilation when they got on the Nina, the Pinta, and/or the Santa Maria?
Do you think the pioneers were looking for seat belts when they jumped in their wagons and went off to settle the west?
Of course not.
They understood that life is full of risk and not everyone can be safe ALL the time.
Sometimes a storm might sink a ship or two, or the natives get restless and attack the wagon train.
Who knows?
Not me.
But did that stop them?
No way.
So, by my calculations, if 75% of my children make it to adulthood, well then that's better than average, (AND it's also a solid C+ ) and that's all you can expect and more than you could hope for out of life, but if you insist on being "safe", I'll just throw that old quilt the neighbor down the street made for the boys when they were born down in the trunk because warm is practically the same as safe, right?
A quilt will keep them warm.
Especially in the trunk in Florida.
So there ya' go.
All the little ones are safe after all.
Case closed.




It's hard to argue with that type of logic.
And the truth is, we all survived.
Including WaWa and her daughter.
I don't remember ever wearing a seat belt at any point before my mid twenties.
And look, I've only lost one eye so far so I think that's pretty darn good.

The point is this:
Life is not the "It's A Small World After All" ride at Disney World.
When you're doing it right, it can be profoundly unsafe.
(Like, for instance, riding a motorcycle cross country with only one eye and zero experience.)
But lots of fun.



I have no idea how I started with an article about a woman stealing a boat and ended up with a long winded diatribe about safety.
Good grief.
A woman, in England no less, gets drunk and steals a boat and I end up rambling about my time in the truck of a Dodge Duster.
I need more coffee.

Or drugs.

WAIT!
I could put the drugs IN THE COFFEE!!!

Brilliant.

Thanks guys.
You've been a real life saver.

Yay! We made the list!

http://thechive.com/2012/09/18/hungry-the-best-bbq-joints-in-america-25-photos/

Well, not really "we" per se, but the city of Atlanta in general, and Fox Bros. BBQ to be specific.
But still, it's reason to celebrate - possibly with a slab of ribs, side of fried okra, beans, and some mac'n'cheese, with a large sweet tea to go, please!

This is dang 'ol good food!

When my brother ____'s twins were in town, "uncle Pinche-r" took the little tykes ribs and fried okra a couple times.  They loved it! Those little Beantown babies were never the same!  They went back to the cold, snowy, great, white north with a love for all things southern!
Plus Guinness!
Those kids love Guinesss!

Still brings a tear to my good eye just thinking about little Emily reaching across the bar at The Brick Store Pub there in Decatur, trying to snag a swig of "uncle Pinche-r's" Guinness.
On the outside, I was all "Not so fast you little s@#t!"
But inside, I was all, "That's my little girl!  They grow up so fast!"
Can't wait to see what happens on their 4th birthday!

Uncle Pinche-r feeds the twins Fox Bros. BBQ (apparently with both eyes closed)(just to make it challenging)

That reminds me....

Sunday, September 16, 2012 9:44pm PDT

Fisherman adrift for 106 days in Pacific says shark led him to rescuers

By: Pete Thomas, GrindTV.com

A man who survived while adrift in the Pacific for 106 days is crediting a shark for helping to save his life.

Toakai Teitoi, 41, a policeman from the Central Pacific island nation of Kiribati, had been traveling with his brother-in-law on what was supposed to be a short voyage, beginning May 27, from the Kiribati capital of Tarawa to his home island of Maiana.

But the mariners decided to fish along the way, and fell asleep during the night. When they awoke they were far at sea and adrift in their 15-foot wooden vessel. They soon ran out of fuel, and were short on water.

"We had food, but the problem was we had nothing to drink," Teitoi toldAgence France-Presse news service.

Dehydration was severe. Falaile, the 52-year-old brother-in-law, died on July 4. That night, Teitoi slept next to him, "like at a funeral," before an emotional burial at sea the next morning.

Teitoi shared scant details of the ordeal after arriving in Majuro, in the Marshall Islands, on Saturday. He said he prayed the night Falaile died, and the next day a storm arrived and, over the next several days, he was able to fill two five-gallon containers with fresh water.

Days and weeks passed, however, and Teitoi, a father of six, did not know whether he'd live or die. He subsisted mostly on fish and protected himself against the searing tropical sun by curling up in a small, covered portion of the bow.

It was on the afternoon of Sept. 11 that he awoke to the sound of scratching against his boat. A six-foot shark was circling the boat and, Teitoi said, bumping against its hull.

"He was guiding me to a fishing boat," Teitoi said. "I looked up and there was the stern of a ship and I could see crew with binoculars looking at me."

The first thing he asked for after he was plucked from the water was a cigarette, or "a smoke." He was given food and juice and his rescuers continued to fish for several days before delivering him to Majuro.

Teitoi, who seemed in good health, said he booked flights back to his home island, adding, "I'll never go by boat again."

The record for drifting at sea is believed to be held by two fishermen, also from Kiribati, who were at sea for 177 days before coming ashore in Samoa in 1992.

--Note: Image is generic and the shark pictured is not the shark encountered by Toakai Teitoi
MORE ON GRINDTV
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This story reminds me of the book, The Life of Pi. 

http://www.amazon.com/Life-Pi-Yann-Martel/dp/0156027321

My good friend Keef gave me Pi to read sometime in late 2003 or early 2004 and I must've read it a dozen times since then.
It's a wonderful book and I feel like a better person every time I read it.

The story goes something like this:
A little Indian boy is set adrift in the Pacific Ocean in a row boat, with a tiger, and survives.

I know.
I'm pretty bad as a salesman, but trust me - this is a great book.
And you'll know it's good when I tell you the that "El Duecey" didn't get it.
Case closed.

OK, seriously?

I just don't even know where to begin with this picture.

I realize that we have plenty of nutjobs and a##holes in this country, but this is just so over the top.

(It may actually be worse than the Rahm Emmanuel likes Nickelback poster.  Possibly.  If not, then at least a close second.)

The Moth Podcast

I've been preaching the excellence that is The Moth Podcast to anyone that will stand still for the last few months.
The Moth Podcast is a free download on ITunes.  People just stand up, usually they're in NYC, and tell stories about their lives.  Sometimes there's a theme for the night and several people tell stories on that theme and the best one gets put on the podcast.  It's just fantastic.
Recently, I've heard stories about bullfighting with Ernest Hemingway, dangerous sleepwalking, and a story by woman who was "held hostage" by her 5 year old daughter.
Some of the stories are hilarious, some are thought provoking, some are real tear-jerkers, but all of them have been wildly entertaining.

http://feeds.themoth.org/themothpodcast

Exactly

http://www.theonion.com/articles/no-one-murdered-because-of-this-image,29553/

Finally.

http://www.theonion.com/video/soccer-officially-announces-it-is-gay,17603/

It's just a feel good story for Saturday morning.

http://imgur.com/PJsRg

Well, what does it say about me?

from Wikipedia
Narcissism is a term with a wide range of meanings, depending on whether it is used to describe a central concept of psychoanalytic theory, a mental illness, a social or cultural problem, or simply a personality trait. Except in the sense of primary narcissism or healthy self-love, "narcissism" usually is used to describe some kind of problem in a person or group's relationships with self and others. In everyday speech, "narcissism" often means egoism, vanity, conceit, or simple selfishness. Applied to a social group, it is sometimes used to denoteelitism or an indifference to the plight of others. In psychology, the term is used to describe both normal self-love and unhealthy self-absorption due to a disturbance in the sense of self.



I called my good friend, Kristi, years ago, and when I asked her what she was up to, she replied,
"oh, just reading a book on narcissistic personality disorder" and without missing a beat I asked,
 "Really? Does it say anything about me?"

See?

I can call myself out.

("I don't want you to CHANGE the behavior, just notice it when it's happening.")

And, because I can recognize my own short-comings and pequadillos, and make some self-effacing joke about them, you like me better.

(Maybe I planned it all along.)
(You'll never know.)
(Yeah.)
(You are freakin' out, man.)
(I'm inside your head, doin' a little Lionel Richie thing, right there on your MIND!)
(Yeah, I did.)
(yeah.......)


Annnnyyyyhoo...

I bring this up (along with the Walter Mitty reference from the previous post) because Michael Duncan Clarke died.

That's a bummer.
He was a good actor and seemed like a genuinely nice guy.
Tom Hanks delivered the eulogy (one of them anyway).
He seemed like a big teddy bear of a guy.
(Clarke not Hanks)
(Hanks has a good rep too, though).
But, to be honest, that's not why I'm bothered.

Don't get me wrong, it's sad that Clarke died and all, and I'm sure Omirossa-
(why do I know that name!?!) 
(I f#@ing hate that I know that name)
-is all sad and it's tragic for her, but because Clarke has died an untimely death, I have to change my whole speech and that sucks because the speech was really good.

Some dude falls over and now the whole thing goes out the window.
That really stinks.
I put a lot of effort into that speech.

Most of my life, I've been a pretty internal guy.
I spend a lot of time up inside my head.
It can get pretty crowded in there.
Every now and again I have to step outside when the noise and aggravation gets to be too much.
(It's not as hard as you think)
(I'll show you sometime.)
It's like being in New York City on a busy Monday:  people hustling here and there, and the cars, and the buses, and the taxis, and the horns, and the smell alone will gag you.
Not that anything important is going on.  
It's just chaotic as hell up there.
I'm here physically, but mentally, I'm just making land after a 3 day run with a hull full of bootleg whiskey. 
(You see?)
(Did it again.)
And the thing with Clarke dying is that I won't be able to give the speech that I had written for the Oscars.
No, no, no, ...stop it...listen...

I'm there.
I'm at the Oscars because I've been nominated for something.
Am I an actor? 
A writer?  
Musician?  
Caterer?
I have no idea.
You're missing the point.
And stop interrupting.
So, I'm at The Oscars and I'm in my tux (I look good) and I'm at my table with my adoring wife/girlfriend/model/actress/waitress who looks all gorgeous and doe-eyed and the MC steps to the mike and says:

"And now, the Oscar for Handsome-Young-Go-Getter and and all around Righteous Dude goes to............(drum roll).....

"El Pinche Pirata del Fuego!!!!!"

And the crowd goes nuts and there's a big standing ovation as I pause to kiss my model/actress/waitress/wife/girlfriend on my way to the stage.
And, of course, in my head, I'm thinking (in the head of the person in the daydream that is) how did " lil ol' me" from Middleburg, Florida get all the way to Hollywood, "Cal-i-Forn-I-A" and on this stage, right now, to get this little gold man!?!

Incredible.

And I pause for a second and gaze at the crowd as if I'm just standing there, taking it all in, and I start the speech, which, in part, goes something like:

"I came to Hollywood with a mission.
I had a plan.
When I showed up (X) number of years ago, my plan was to:
A.  Bang a lot of hot, young, Hollywood tail (here I would mime something to George Clooney - a little self-effacing gay joke to get the crowd on my side)(maybe a quick "Call me George pantomime?")
B.  Win an Oscar
C.  To give Michael Duncan Clarke a big hug.
Thank you for helping me achieve exactly one of those goals tonight!"
And the crowd would erupt into applause and laughter.

And Michael Duncan Clarke, who would've been in the crowd the whole time, jumps to his feet, holds his arms up and gives me the "put'er there" signal, and I would leave the stage to give Michael Duncan Clarke a big hug, and thus completing the joke/speech, and there would be howls of laughter and applause (again) and lots of pats on the back and "attaboys" and such.
It's a great fugue moment.

But, now it won't happen.  

Even the daydream seems wrong now.
His death injects reality into to my mental meanderings.

It's one thing if an event is unlikely to happen but completely different if it will NEVER happen.

I know what you're thinking:
"EPPdF:  Why do you have fantasies about embracing large black men while an audience of rich white people looks on?
Hmmmm.....?"

The thing is...that... no...I don't think you....well, .....

HEY!!!   
Stop making this thing Gay.

Jeez!  The man just died and you're making gay jokes on his grave for Chrissakes!
Really!?!
Show some class, man!
It's a God Dammed tragedy, is what it is.



I should probably talk to somebody.


http://www.latimes.com/news/obituaries/la-michael-clarke-duncan-dead-0903,0,7426494.story