More from FLA Cracker, here’s an article about outdoor survival. This kind of crap is always on my mind, probably from being a Boy Scout, but I just don’t go on trips* where I don’t know how I’m going to get out alive if it’s a Worst Case Scenario. I’m adding my generic Car Kit under the Read More button, and any critiques or additions are welcome.

If you want to read a good reason why I’m even still a Boy Scout and want to be prepared, try this one about that poor guy and his family who got lost up in Oregon. Ten stinking days from getting lost to being found, and that includes burning tires. Burning tires make a lot of damn smoke. I’m frankly amazed, and not a little disturbed, that burning tires didn’t do the trick. End of the day, it even took some committed amateur guy with his own helicopter, driven by nothing but compassion, to find the survivors. Very spooky.

* Business trips are a HUGE problem for me mentally because I can’t even carry a multi-tool, let alone a gun or a real knife. Makes me crazy. I should probably think harder and come up with some little pouch that even the GDMFSOBing revenooers deem safe for us dipstick subjects. I frankly just wish I could just drive everywhere, but having the globe as a territory makes that somewhat impractical.

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You say: Can’t we all agree to start the savaging of Presidential candidates until january 2008?

I’ll agree to that, if they agree to stay out of my face until January of 2007. This agreement devolves to all media I consume - teevee, internet tubes, radio, blogs.

OK, then, that ain’t gonna happen. If I have to deal with them, they have to deal with me. I figure they win, no matter what. No one’s going to start a Fat Guy PAC, after all. But maybe someone should…

That video is what we used to call metal-rap back in my days of callow youthfulness…buncha white dorks slamming out power-chords for a black dude doing rap. Damn if I can remember who I listened to back then, but there was plenty of it (most of it bad, though - it’s tough to pull off.) But that’s not what’s important.

What is important is it’s an artist younger than me who’s not a wearing a cowboy hat calling out the jihadis. That’s gold. I hope it catches on.

Via Ace…

I don’t know if it’s a fully realized political stance or an opportunistic grab at a brass ring, but I don’t care. The sweet part is the idiot kids who might absorb a message not soaked in multi-culti trans-prog tolerance. This country is going to need some pissed-off American kids when we pull back/out of the ME.

I should probably title this Memo to The Wife, but she never listens to me. “[...] no one in this country has yet even contracted bird flu.”

More monkey-pox? SARS? Legionairre’s? Ebola? Mad-cow? That one with the mosquitos…West Nile? I know there are more of these Oprah Health Care Week specials out there, but they escape me, they’re so numerous - because civil service bureaucrats are fighting for the dollars you pay in taxes even as we speak, and there are endless hausfrau programming hours to fill every day. I’d sure hate to catch any of them, but I don’t believe the gummint is going to be able to do anything to stop me from kicking the goat-skin when it’s my time to kick it. People spend so much time and dollars and energy freaking out about this stuff and other various microbes out there. That time could be so much better spent, even if all you did was spend it on yourself doing things that made you happy, instead of wiping down the house with bleach twice a week and pestering your GP.

Live large, folks…this ain’t a dress rehearsal.

(via Alan Sullivan, who’s faced a real “live large” decision of his own, and has done more to inspire me than anyone else on this particular internet tube.)

That Peyton Manning makes Marvin Harrison his go-to guy tonight, so that I can play in the Super Bowl of my fantasy football league. I need 31 points out of him, and he’s done that much in precisely 15.3846% of his games this year. So, it’s an equally simple hope that Reggie Wayne gets kind of sick and run-down feeling right about now, and tells his coach that he simply can’t go, and that he best put on some street clothes and cheer from the sidelines.

I know you’re not supposed to talk fantasy football except with those in your league, but like the wily Russian says, Tuffski Shitski. Winning the league is the difference between a 700BDL and a…well, a 700BDL but feeling kind of bad for being so profligate towards a purely personally satisfying bit of “nobody cares but me” back-story.

Hardly. Properly-marketed jugs will take you a long way, same as they always would.