That’s a very gorgeous custom chopper…my photo doesn’t do it justice. The dude is back for the second week in a row, just hanging out. He and his lady friend leave early in the evening and wander back around around midnight. They have a nice enclosed trailer for the bikes, and basically just sleep under the stars on a full-size cot. The bikes go inside to keep the dew off, natch. Note to Self: find out where they’re hanging out…has to be better than the bar at the MK.

I, on the other hand, am customizing this hunk of junk. As in, getting all the light bulbs to work. That’s a 1978 Chevy Big 10 in damn near the ugliest color combo you could specify. Coffee-brown over curdled-cream. Yuck. It’s pictured from the good side, as well. But — under the hood is sweet 454 big block, with a Holley 4bbl carb. Pulls like Paul Bunyan’s ox - you can feel the front end lift if you stab it, even when doing 60. Just the slightest of knocking, too. As I mentioned, I got all the light bulbs to work, so I was able to get it inspected and tagged. So it’s now road-legal…ladies, lock up your moms! The automatic trans is in decent shape, though it has a hard time kicking up from second. I’m considering a swap for a four-speed manual (with a Hurst shifter, of course.) All of the emissions crap that was just starting to creep into vehicles at the time of this dinosaur’s manufacturing is long-gone, of course. So, a dual-exhaust with headers are a must. I’m thinking that some cheap-ass JCWhitney bucket seats are in the future, as well. Velour, probably. heh heh

The family stray, currently bunking at my brother’s trailer, has turned out to be a leather worker. He’s pretty good now, and will only get better. I had him whip this up for me, which, who knows when you’re going to need a quick & sly shot of Knob Creek? Yeah, yeah, I know all about the spread of open container laws in the land of the semi-free…screw ‘em. If a cop can’t respect a hand-tooled flask, that’s just my bad luck. There are some slight imperfections in the staining, but I get stuff at cost, so no bitching.

I’m a crotchety, cranky, cynical piss-ant turd*, but this salesman is my hero. Just click, scroll and read, toads.

I deal with a lot of people on a day to day basis. Some are honorable, some are goat-roping assholes. And that’s okay. You are what you are. I can smoke you out pretty soon, anyway, and will treat you accordingly.

Here’s my issue: every time someone tries to really screw me, I mean really pole me, I realize they are avid churchgoers. Sunday School teachers, deacons, and such.

What the fuck is that all about? I am not casting a wide net here, I am not denigrating churchgoers as a cohort, I am merely proclaiming that every time someone tries to fuck me they are good churchfolk, and are extremely active in their churches.

If you can’t fall in love with a line like “goat-roping assholes,” you’re a panty-waist.

* I need to find a way to say SOB without slurring my sainted mother, who taught me to read and write at the age of three, forever damning me to this literary hell of being unable to stop doing either. Better that I was a true half-wit with naught on my mind but fishing and tobacco and rotgut.

Straight-ahead, good-times, Hammond organ and wah-wah pedal Texas Funk, by Mickey and the Soul Generation. Every good boy and girl needs ‘em lots of this…

(5mb, and worth every download second)

(Here’s the album it came from if you want more. Which you do, right?)

On the recommendation of someone, and pursuant to this mess, I’ve downloaded and installed iTunes to manage my musica. Now it’s sitting there gobbling up files, and massive CPU cycles, with the message “Converting [bloody well everything]“. No ‘from’ or ‘to’ info…just ‘converting.’ And the cute little GB indicator is creeping skyward.

I feel kinda queasy.

NOT SO BAD UPDATE: WMA files, that’s what it was. Only added half a gig. Which, is one hell of a lot of storage, if you’re where I’m from. And as usual with these new musica program installs, I unearthed a whole butt-load of stuff I haven’t listened to in years, like Beck. I played the everloving hell out of Odelay…still stands up. Sonic Youth, same thing. Sad to have lost track of so many threads of genius. Couldn’t tell you what SY is up to, but I killed two Walkmans playing Daydream Nation back in my sysprog days (actually weekend nights, but you know). Not that much different from the iPodders of this strange new world, except I would have needed a flat-bed to carry all that music around.
Going back to Houston, to do the hot-dog dance.
Going back to Houston, to get me some pants.
Tee hee…

NB: those pork ribs were delicious. Falling off the bone tender. Here’s what I did:

- Rub applied the night before, and swaddled in plastic wrap (that stuff will make a preacher cuss).
- Smoker lit at approximately 2pm; charcoal starter, with largish hunks of pecan wood for smoke.
- Flames died down, rack of ribs go on smoker, lid down at approximately 2:30pm.
- Smoked heavily for the next 2.5-3 hours, at 200-250°.
- Wrapped ribs in foil at approximately 5:00pm. Poured half a beer into the foil wrap. NB: I also added a beer-can chicken to the smoker at this point.
- Continued cooking for 2.5-3 hours.
- Pulled ribs and chicken from grill around 7-ish.
- Let ribs sit in foil wrap for 30 minutes.
- Chop and eat some chicken.
- Chop and eat some ribs.

Now, there are several things that I think helped make this a better rack of ribs than I usually get.

1. Keeping the temps a little bit higher than I do for a thick cut of meat; seems counter-intuitive to me.
2. Lots of smoke early; I poked and prodded the coals a whole lot LESS than I usually do. It seems to have made for better smoke. These babies were pink all the way through, and you could taste it in every bite.
3. Foil wrap; since it’s a thin cut, it will lose moisture rapidly, and we need moisture for “falling off the bone tender.”
4. Beer; is there anything beer is NOT good for? I answer my own question.

I still swear that rubs are over-rated as a flavoring engine. On ribs, since they’re skinny, it’s an OK thing — you’ll get the flavor in every bite. But the muss and fuss of putting the rub on the night before and wrapping it in Saran Wrap is pointless. I think you could make a thin sauce out of the rub spices and anything liquid (beer? Of course!) and get more bang for your buck. On the bigger cuts, briskets and shoulders, why not just go ahead and inject that thin sauce and get a smoke/spice flavor mix in every dang bite? Makes sense, but I think several weekends of experimentation are in order.

Now, on the rub part, I’m perfectly happy to be corrected by you geniuses. Maybe I’m doing it wrong, or using the wrong ingredients. I’ve used professional pre-mixed stuff, and made my own from what looks good on the spice shelf. Nothing has worked. There’s just no flavor penetration down into the thick parts of the cut, and if that don’t happen, what’s the point? What I’m looking for is hint of jalapeno or cayenne all the way through, and I ain’t getting there. Thus, the injection idea.

And yes, I’m making this all up as I go along. Pure seat of the pants. We’re talking about cheap cuts of meat here. I haven’t made anything inedible yet, and there are always people around who will finish off what I don’t eat.

Plus, you know — the advancement of the Art of the Smoke. It’s my duty…

My brilliant blog buddy with the Ph.D in Houston says Son Volt’s latest is practically as good as Trace.

I’m a Tweedy man myself, but Kevin has good ears.

“I can only hope they’ll wake up and see the padding on the wall.”
- Swen Swenson