Monthly Archives: December 2012

Oh, lookie here — some Bulleitt’s

There is a kind of song, a genre if you will, I have come to label as Booze Enablers. Here’s one by Hayes Carll, a ridiculously unknown & unappreciated genius of a songwriter:

“Do you think that I could stay in town with you? / It’s thirty miles to my place & I’m feeling tired and blue.”

Charlie Robison’s Middle of the Night is another one that you’ll have to beg, borrow, or steal. “Can you tell me why I can’t find the door?”

Ach. So many boozy nights, so much money poured down a bottomless hole. Can’t say as I’d change a thing, unless it was everything I could change, and then where who would I be?

Now I shall pour another two-fingers-and-one-cube and turn down the lights and cue up Neko Case. Which reminds me, I feel pity towards those who don’t buy the whole album…without the whole album, you’d never know Louisiana Stripes and the need to play that late at night on a two-lane with a cool one sweating in the console trying to decide if 5mph over the limit is okay around these parts or not.

Driven to Drink + Happy New Year

They kind of go together, one supposes. Windows 8 has driven me to drink, by virtue of being only slightly in charge of an upgrade. Combined with a handful of XP machines. And nobody knows nothing about nothing. And it’s all breaking all over the place. And I’ve never laid one finger on Win8 until about six hours ago. I see you can download it for forty simoleans, and I’m inclined to do it, just so’s I can see.

Happy New Year to ye. I’m going to eat dinner with the Old Country Doctor, and then I shall be here in my cabin, alone, drinking Keystone Light, and I might hand me down the Jim Beam Black what’s roosting on the top shelf. If you see stuff following close after this, then you will know I have done so to excess.

I shan’t complain about the auld year of 2012, either, as I have survived it & I am a pretty happy man about that.

Only a 40 degree swing

It was 79 yesterday as I toodled around town getting a haircut, oil change, beer & snuff. Right now, it’s 39. The sinuses that exist in my cabeza are making their displeasure known with over-production of stuff. I am bitching a lot about that, here and elsewhere.

Suddenly, too, I feel like going somewhere warm & sunny & boozy, do some girl-watching…very selfish, and it’s not even February yet.

Joshy-Josh from the LALA POV

“For the second year in a row, the Angels put out big money to land a slugger, giving their fan base hope and the Dodgers a little kick in the shins.”

I just checked and yes, the Angels did finish third in the short AL West last year. Which was won by the Oakland Athletics & a payroll of about CJ Wilson’s Axe Body Spray budget.

None of which is to indicate that I believe the Rangers aren’t looking up at the Halos, based on statistical evidence. Just saying, baseball is a screwy game, and it’s absolutely awesome, and I want to just hibernate, go to sleep, until Spring Training, and wake up to see what the Cattleman and the Quant have cooked up for my beloved Rangers. Except I don’t, I like all this jabber-jabber.

More Joshy-Josh / Halos & bonus Pujols from meganerd Posnanski, basically saying “they’re kind of old for baseball players.”

Which is not to indicate that I believe both of those two will never produce again. It wouldn’t surprise me if they didn’t, and it wouldn’t surprise me if they did. It would surprise me, greatly, if they both produced at MVP levels for the duration & price of their contracts…yes, that would surprise me an enormous amount, since it doesn’t appear to have ever been done.

Guh…I can’t end these baseball posts. How I hate plowing through these next few months of football and mutants-in-underwear-in-the-gym. I get a nice little jolt with Daytona, the Super Bowl is mildly interesting, but jeez, it’s just frozen tundra till April. Didn’t used to be this way, I could get on the bandwagon for all the other stuff. Of course, I had a bookie and some baksheesh then, and that injected a little ooo-la-la into the cold, hard, cruel winter.

Send in the Snot Tanker

Three weeks of bronchitis was no fun, and more debilitating than this current cold, but this current cold has re-wired my sinuses to generate more mucus and snot and junk than really should be possible for a human. Further, it’s either completely solidified and not moving one micrometer from the center of my head, or it’s draining out and into my throat or out of my nostrils. Pretty to think about, ain’t it!

Big Dick has demanded an accounting of the loss of Josh Hamilton. The Official TFG Position is “hate to see his stats go, don’t mind not overspending for them, enjoy the nut & his wife, SoCal.”

“Looking at it now, I think it’s a blessing in disguise,” Hamilton said. “I gave them everything I had for five years, so I’d be lying to you if I said it didn’t bother me a little bit, that they didn’t put the press on.”

Hamilton deferred to his wife, Katie, to describe what went wrong with the Rangers, who had agreed to let Hamilton get a feel for what he might be worth. But by not striking first, she said, they found a new love.

“My take on it was we were with them for five years, and if you’re going to date somebody and they’re going to be your man or your woman, you make it official and make it known pretty quick or at some point that you want to be with them,” she said. “They let us date other teams. Josh said he would give him the first chance, and they didn’t take him up on that. So, they let us go out and date people and give our hearts away.”

Said Hamilton, finishing his wife’s thought: “They didn’t put a ring on it.”

And he & the little lady seem to have some legal problems cropping up. It’s a minor thing, likely nothing, but it’s indicative of what Hamilton seems to have turned into over the last year. I don’t know what that is, because I can’t read the man’s mind. From here, though, it looks like a guy who decided to bust out of a shell of safety he’d put himself into in the first place, for very good reasons. Hubris, or maybe more of a humility dial-down…he doesn’t sound terribly over-proud, not when compared to most every other 32-year old former MVP super-star.

Well, whatever…he’s gone to the Angels. Adios, mofo. I’m not going to panic and knee-jerk. It’s still a long time till Spring Training (O! such a very long time!). The market is fluid, very fluid. Trades can come out of no where in no time. Signings and injuries and the long arm of the law and kooky human beings means anything can happen that can change everything for anybody.

And as always, Joey Matches is way more on top of this from every angle, and I suggest you go read that instead of this. My head hurts from my snot-laden sinuses. Adios.

Katie The Idiot Hound

It’s been in the twenties the last two nights. Katie, the rescued hound, has chosen to hunker down in her same old patch of dirt next to the house overnight, rather than a) using the straw-filled dog house 10 steps away, or b) moseying 50 yards to the hay barn with the south-facing door.

New button and potential Extremely Tiny Bidness

So Tiny it doesn’t even deserve the name Bidness.

I’ve spent the last five days working on this little bootable USB massive damn reference library thumbdrive for survivalists preppers. I got the germ of the idea from Claire Wolfe. Mark here provided a very complete set of links to torrents and downloads, as well as an explanation of the project.

Basically, it’s roughly 15 gigabytes of public domain reference material assembled to assist third-world countries in bootstrapping out of third-world status. Most of it is indexed. I’m working on the rest of it. As well as working on an alternative indexing scheme, as time and material and energy are available.

That’s why I’ve been off the screens for a few days. It’s something to do, that I can do, that I like to do, and I can do it kinda good, too.

A Lovely Baseball Headline to Read

Winter meetings 2012: Rangers freeze brings free-agent, trade market to standstill

As Major League Baseball’s winter meetings neared their end Wednesday, the Texas Rangers were holding up everything.

The most important team at the meetings in Nashville, Tenn., wasn’t the flush-with-cash Los Angeles Dodgers, the desperate-to-compete Seattle Mariners or another franchise outside the Lone Star State. Team executives in both the American and National leagues were waiting on the Rangers before other pieces could fall.

Never would have happened before Jon Daniels & Nolan Ryan. It just makes life fun, thinking about my beloved Rangers clogging up the works. For the entirety of my life, that role has been filled by the Yankees throwing wheelbarrows of dubloons around. There’s even scuttlebutt that they might be moving Michael Young to the Phillies and only have to eat one-half of his contract money, which, oh please let it be so! That would make JD GM of the Year for 2013 all by itself.

And those Yankees? Cue the sad piano music: Yankees can’t even reel in role players like Eric Chavez, Jeff Keppinger and Marco Scutaro in free agency at winter meetings There was a whisper earlier that the hated Yankees might be willing to take MYoung to fill an infield void caused by ARod’s ancient hip and whatever happened to Jeter.

Things what’re on my mind this fine summer day

- To AC or not to AC, there be the question. It’s not the heat, which hit 80° over the weekend, it’s the mugginess.

- I’ve been sitting on the scan results over the weekend. They weren’t good, but then they weren’t bad. The lymph node that we’ve been keeping an eye on continues to grow in activity. That means it’s likely cancerous. It could also mean that it’s active because of this persistent bronchitis which I’ve been fighting since around the time of the scan. Taking no chances, my oncologist is sending me to a consultation with a radiation oncologist regarding a CyberKnife treatment. Doing that depends on my radioactivity profile, and the ability to target the lymph node. The node in question is a sub-carinal node, which is in the middle of (for lack of a better term) a mess of stuff — see Node(s) 7. Anyhoo, if it’s not treatable by the CyberKnife, it’ll mean more chemo. Most likely. Unless the bronchitis gets conquered, and the activity level goes down, and it gets checked again before treatment. However, important to note here, this particular node has been on the radar since Day 1, so most likely, it’s just plain old cancerous, and has to be treated. Me, I’m all, like, well, whatever, let’s do it, or let’s don’t do it. There’s so much of the unknown here with cancer, but then that’s life in a nutshell, ain’t it? I just happen to have it right here looming up in front of me.

- A range session on Saturday taught me that there are two kinds of guns I probably shouldn’t shoot — pistols and long guns. My eyesight is so deteriorated that I could only barely get on the 2×2 paper at 100 yards with iron sights using the long gun. First time I’ve shot this particular rifle, so it could need some sighting in, but I highly doubt it. Pistol results, at 5 & 10 yards, were bad in a different way. I’m pretty sure I was either limp-wristing it or over-muscling it or flinching or I have a changed dominant eye or my Weaver stance is no longer any good for me. The only hope for the long gun is some kind of red-dot sight. The only hope for the pistol is some kind of laser. Those things, and a lot more (expensive) shooting. And perhaps, a Ruger 22/45 for cheapie practice? I want one of those anyway.

- Baseball’s winter meetings are underway in Nashville, TN. Your basic stuff about these meetings can be found on just about any news-ish website. I prefer Sports Illustrated for that kind of general thing. For only the best of Rangers news, though, you can go straight to the kids at BBTIA, who continue to provide superiour analysis.

- There’s still no hockey, I couldn’t care less about the NBA, and I cannot stir myself to get excercised about the Cowpokes. My sports universe is dark and barren, a cold, hard interstellar vacuum between at-bats.