Tarantulas, fire ants lurk in Texas floodwaters

South Texans eager to salvage what they can from waterlogged homes struck by Hurricane Dolly have another problem: The floodwaters they’re slogging through are laced with stinging fire ants, snakes and even deadly tarantulas.

Lurk.

You gotta deal with that shit no matter if there’s a flood or not. What you gotta watch out for with floods is bundles of barbed wire that’s all rolled up and will eat you up like the Blob.

Mr. Medlock:

We were of course subject to every stoplight between here and San Antonio. That alone would stop me from doing it today. I’m pretty sure there weren’t many four-lane highways, if any. There were no McDonalds or any other chain restaurant back then that I remember. And the same was true for motels and hotels. Basically you had no standards that you could trust. Everything was local unless you had been there before. Sometimes that worked out good if you were able to get some good home cooking.

“No standards you could trust.” Are you kidding me? Who expects “standards you could trust”? Hell, I yearn for a world without ‘em. Like I want to wake up and say, “I’m headed to Denny’s for a Grand Slam that’s just like the one I had in Alabama.”

This is where our nation went non-linear. Everybody wants the same crap they get at home. I’m extremely thankful that I got to go to Detroit and get a loose scattered chiliburger, and went to North Carolina and got cole slaw on my BBQ sandwich, and went to California and got fish tacos. and went to Chicago and got the world’s greatest street dogs, and went to Buffalo and got the original hot wings. Standards, my ass. I never wanted to eat tacos and chicken fried steak the rest of my life.

Wait…what am I saying? I kinda do. Except not really very much. Occasionally, OK? A CFS every quarter, some Tex-Mex about once a week. A taco, a couple of cheese enchiladas, and a tamale. That’s living. With paint-peeling green sauce, of course.

YouTube without all the eye-candy:

Via Tom McMahon…the site not the song…the song is all me.

And, I should note, that it’s all based on Flash, which works about as well as my ancient beater Ford. Which is to say, OK, when it gets going, but then it goes haywire, and then, there you go. Well, that embedded baloney is much like that. It doesn’t work for me very well. Still, the kids behind it might make it work.

Anyhoo, here it is, complete with gay Longhorn memorabilia:

I stumbled across this during a boozing session, and it was on the teevee - the Hooter’s Swimsuit Competition:

Who knew? And why wasn’t I informed of this immediately?