Sweet - bagpipes. Lots of bagpipes.

NASCAR really does rock — I just watched some replay of Tony Stewart and Juan Blahblo Monblahblah pounding on each other going down the backstretch. Lugnuts > 1, too. Of course, they have arbitrary work rules that hose things up, like “stay in contact with the tire all the way to the wall.” Whisky tango foxtrot, over?

I pay almost zero attention to American open-wheel roundy-rounds, because it’s been a seriously effed-up racing series for about a decade, what with CART, IRL, PBR, LMNOP, and whatnot. I’m glad they got all their petty rich-white-dude differences ironed out, because Americans need their own open-wheel racing series. It can’t compare to NASCAR, since you can’t really ram one of these delicate flowers into another one because the dude slammed the door on you going into turn 3, and you can’t really scrape the wall and stay on the track. But it’s still pretty good, cuz they go really, really fast, like about 5000 mph, and that rocks.

I like checking out the sponsors, too. Indy gets some kinda-sorta highbrows, but there’s plenty of crossover, too. I do heartily love the regional differences, though. Down here in Mexico Jr., Bill’s Tractor buys time. I’ve never ever seen a tractor commercial in the DF&W. And it’s followed by a commercial for Lear Jet…that’s Indy!

I’ve sure had enough of the Grrll!!1! Pwer Danica Patrick chatter. I never knew there was so much active misogyny keeping wymmin from racing cars, and that’s the impression any random non-gearhead would get from pretty much everything pre-game. I guess it’s harmless and feel-good, though. Whatever makes peeps go fast and keep watching.

OK, so we’ve had a pit road fire and a couple of crashes so far. Good times.

HALFWAY+ UPDATE: Some more crashing. Humbling to learn that two racecar drivers I grew up watching have, ahem, grandsons in this race: Marco Andretti and AJ Foyt IV. And some more crashing. I like how the IRL crash dudes just trot out there — they don’t require 60 support vehicles to form an impenetrable barrier around a guy picking up a piece of sheet-metal, like NASCAR does. A wrecker and a truck seem to pretty much get it done. About another 6000 over-focuses on Ms. Patrick, who’s kinda cute, and growing on me with a fresh picture on the teevee screen about every 30 seconds. I hope my grandsons have more talent and ambition than me. “Let’s check in with Danica again…”

DANICA 500 UPDATE: Danica’s out, so they cancelled the rest of it and declared a National Period of Pouting.

Wow. I really thought I was gonna have two loins in that cryovac pack, but it’s just one enormous 4.85 lb Godzilla pork loin.

So, as best I can recall, I need to get this thing up to 150-160°F internal. And it’s not a real fatty piece of meat, so I’m going to smoke at about an hour per lb. (my default) at about 250 and see where it gets me. I’m also going to just cover it in cheap bacon and hope that bastes it, some. Might have to wrap it in foil, too.

This could be a disaster. Or awesome. Or both.

UPDATE: Mmmm…bacony!

Note To Mr. Stanley: I didn’t do no exercising before this one.

Ryan Bingham’s Bread and Water song on video, since a lot of people don’t think music without a video exists. That slide guitar makes me smile…

Via…

8 Types Of Annoying People You’ll Find Inside Starbucks

When you order coffee, it shouldn’t sound like you’re giving the pass code to a missile defense system. If you’re lactose intolerant, on a strict diet, and can’t handle a full dose of caffeine, how about instead of ordering a “non-fat, grande, soy chai latte with a half shot of espresso and no foam” and then stand in front of the pick up window and pace like one of Michael Vick’s pitbulls watching Vick pull out the rape stand after losing a fight, you just grab a glass of god damn water and drink that. Last I checked that won’t give you exploding diarrhea or anxiety… unless you’re at the Starbucks in Tijuana.

I go to Starbucks for the same reason I go to Whataburger or Taco Cabana — they’re reliable. I’m always going to get what I want, which is hot, thick, fairly-tasty black coffee, served in a sturdy cup. However, at any place that is reliable, you get a certain amount of types who frequent it, too. The one described above is the one I detest the most - the picture with it looks like I’d detest that type, anyway, no matter where I encounter it.

One I’d add. that drives me bat-shit berserk, is the type who stands at the cash register gaping at the way-overly-complicated Starbucks menu board as if they expect our Savior, Jesus Christ, to appear there. Or maybe He already has appeared there, and they’ve been struck dumb. But that’s not it, because they eventually mumble out an order to the serenely patient order-taker. Generally, it’s not as over-complicated as outlined above, either, just shakily unsure of what they’re asking for. If I didn’t know that the physics haven’t been worked out on this yet, I’d swear they were teleported from another dimension with instructions to bring back what their superiours have reason to believe might just solve an existence-threatening crisis in that dimension, and they only have one shot at it. And they only had a couple of days of basic English instruction.

Sbux doesn’t help here by having a menu board that’s about 20 feet long with pretty small type and no obvious eye-catcher that says “Hey, here’s the stuff served in cups! All the rest is extraneous, higher-margin geegaws!”

To their credit, the Whataburgers of the world have taken to putting pictures on their menu boards to assist non-English-reading Americans, and most cashiers (around these parts here, anyway) can translate “numero cinco” fairly rapido. There’s no obvious answer like that for Starbucks, though…how do you picture a chai or a skinny latte?

My solution is a walk-up station for regulars like me who know what they want and need it quickly so they can get on about their day…like a 10-items-or-less or self-check deal at the Wal-Mart. A cup dispenser, perhaps, and a big old urn of regular and high-test. 7-11 in Dallas was pretty good about this, but there ain’t no 7-11s in South Texas - they’re all Valeros, and their cups disspitate heat more rapidly than Peltier cooling (flimsy, too.) All their coffee tastes the same, as well, whether it’s Ethyl or unleaded or whatever fruity crap they’re pushing that day.

I also have to say that the real solution is for Americans and others to become more conscious of their surroundings and politely not enter the order line until they know what they want, but I’ve given up on convincing people not to be obliviously-rude a-holes to the strangers they encounter along life’s path. It’s somehow become devalued among our populace, almost as if everybody is now a NooYawker or something.

OK, then…carry on…that’s all I got today, probably. Gonna smoke a 5lb pork loin I found on sale about a year ago, and watch a lot of racing motorsports…F1, Indy 500, NASCAR Coca-Cola 600. Nice day for gearheads.

Found it via Kramer…