Bad, bad regression yesterday. With a full day of football and baseball on the schedule, and the majority of my Sunday chores finished, I drove down to the river to listen to the last quarter of the Pokes game, and popped the top on a tall boy. Three beers later, I was completely buzzed, and a whole pack of cigs were up in smoke. I feel like total crap today, most especially for my backsliding. No more booze for the forseeable future for me. That’s likely the best move, anyway…I need to drop those lbs.

Bah. This new leaf business is rough.

Bah, this is getting boring. I’m stuck on half a pack. Fully half of those are consumed within 60 minutes of getting out of bed. I’m going to have to get back to Dallas where I can ride my bike two or three times a day, but definitely in the AM and the PM. The rest of the coffin nails are post-prandial — still unsure how to manage that. Random Give-Ups have been quelled and I believe I can sustain that. I’ve found enough mechanisms to get away from the computer/phone/smoke itch, so that’s definitely progress. HUGE progress for willpower-free loser.

Anyhoo, like I say, boring. Most hilarious current event right now is dumb-ass DA Ronnie Earle getting a do-over:

Defense lawyers asked a judge Monday to throw out the first indictment, arguing that the charge of conspiring to violate campaign finance laws was based on a statute that didn’t take effect until 2003 — a year after the acts in question.

First off, don’t even try to tell me that this isn’t politically motivated, not when you’re so bloody blind to the fact that your indictment wouldn’t get past the dumbest brother-in-law JP. This is pure, unadulterated proof that any prosecutor worth his parking pass can, indeed, indict a ham sandwich.

Second, press bias? What press bias? The AP in that story describes it thusly: “…after DeLay’s lawyers attacked on technical grounds another indictment handed down last week.” Technical grounds? That crime can’t be grandfathered? Welcome to America, my journalista friends.

I have no feelings one way or the other about Tom DeLay. He ain’t my congresscritter. He’s done a good job keeping his party in line in the House, and that’s what this species of critter does, so I respect him for being good at his game. My friends on the Left have had their own critters do the same thing for just as long as DeLay has. So, pipe down with the faux bloggy outrage.

Pretty much a holding pattern yesterday. No big leap forward. Too much time in front of the teevee watching football.

Scoreboard: 10

Today has been a skull-popping bitch. That’s because I neglected to put my st00p1d patch on after I took a shower (which I took after walking two miles upon awakening). Dumbass. Today is Buckle-Down Day, and I’m quite cranky and irritable for several reasons, none of which have anything to do with cigs.* That’s only compounding it, though. I’m drowsy and fidgety at the same time. I wish I was on a desert island with a case 30 cases of booze and no smokes…that would be easier than this.

* Flat on my damn bike, thanks to the bumper crop of sand burrs; a-hole in Houston uses naked bootleg to escape contractual commitment, 10 months after I go to bat for him with my management to get him a discount; GDMFSOBing oppressive summer refuses to end in Texas, so GDMFSOBing AC just runs and runs and runs and runs.

I made my goal of less than ten coffin nails, by one, yesterday. Mornings are still the most difficult, by a country mile, and then after eating. Today I got out of bed at 6:15, started a pot of cofee, pulled on my cute little walking shoes, and quick-stepped it to the highway and back. The magikal exercise endorphins remained dormant. I did hear a big old owl hooting in the oak tree (imagine James Earl Jones all amped up saying “hoo-oo-ooo” - yes, that big), but perkiness still hasn’t erupted. Crikey, awakeness hasn’t happened. So this be all ye get for a while. Besides, I’ve got to dive deep into fantasy football and decide who to start this week - Chili Palmer of the Bengals (v. HOU) or Dante Bananapepper (v. ATL).

Scoreboard: 9 cowboy killers

Three in the morning, 2 at lunch (5 hours later), then single Give-Ups the remainder of the day, spaced out over intervals of 2-3 hours. Oddly, supper wasn’t a problem. Spending 10 hours outdoors busting brush helped immensely. Dulled 1 chain, but the backup chain hadn’t been sharpened (@$#%ing lazy, good-for-nothing help). Forced to break out the emergency backup chainsaw, a Poulan Wild Thing that has been naught but trouble since the day I bought it — leaky, balky, and ugly. Take my word for it: spend the extra $80-100 on an Echo if you’ve got serious cutting to do. I’ll do some more of that today, but not as much. I need to spend a few hours working on and under my neighbor’s pecans to get ready for harvest. They tell me that autumn is approaching, so I’ll just ignore the 97° yesterday.

Thanks to all my interweb friends for their support in the comments, too. If any of you have a sure-fire way of turning into a morning person, I’ll take it. Basically, I’m looking at firecrackers-as-alarm-clock right now to adrenalize the old noggin. Blar.

If I am an old farm truck, coffee and cigs are the cup of gasoline poured down the carb to get it going in the morning. It looks like I’m going to need to change more than just this smoking business. I’ve never been an up-and-at-’em kind of guy, more of the night owl variety thanks to many years of shift work. But it looks like I’m going to have to turn into one of those early morning exercise freaks I see out and about, the kind that spring out of bed into their track shoes and tiny shorts and hit the sidewalks. Ugh.

I’m tracking these by time and event, just so I can report to you, the bored reader.

Scoreboard: 12 cigarettes (down from 60).

As we say in the sales game, that’s an 800% improvement in resource consumption. Today’s goal is to cut that down to below ten. Give-Ups were clustered around waking up, and eating a meal, where more than one cig was consumed. Singleton Give-Ups were centered around sitting at the PC and working, or talking on the phone. So…

Adios, Mofos.

Since the breaking of the bad news a couple of weeks ago, I’ve been pretty dedicated to the no-to-low carb diet. I definitely feel better, with a little more energy than normal (only one nap required per day, rather than two or five). I’m not really eating all that much, either, and I’m trying my damndest to keep it low-fat, too. I’ve had one slide back into dietary oblivion, though. Monday afternoon, for lunch, I had an extraordinarily powerful, and quite unquenchable, desire for a cheesesteak. So I had one of Texadelphia’s large Texicans, with extra cheese and jalapenos. The rest of the time, it’s been Salad City, with lots of cold cuts & cheese on the side. Giant bowls of tuna salad (2 tins tuna, 2 tbsp. Miracle Whip, 1tbsp dill relish, 1tbsp jalapeno powder or cayenne). The “protein style” double cheeseburgers (no bun, knife and fork and bib). Boring as hell, and my jaws ache from all the lettuce chewing. Practically no sugar at all, which isn’t that big a thing to me, except the occasional spasm of desire for ice cream. In retrospect, it was just laziness that lead me astray last time I was on the Atkins train. But can I just tell you how much I miss enchiladas and burritos? I’m bloody well dreaming about them. I reckon I have to go at least six months before I have another big steaming #19 Mexican Flag enchilada plate, w/ rice, beans. I’ll settle for the ginormous beef fajita salad until then. But a man must have hope, no?

Now comes Step 2 in the cleanup of the Superfund site that is my body. Smoking. Specically, the stopping thereof. For a 3-pack-a-day dude, this isn’t going to be easy. But it’s a Must Do kind of thing. So I’ve rounded up all the patches, all the gum, all the mints, all the little squeezy hand things, big cans of salted nuts, boxes of hard snuff, logs of Copenhagen pouches, and every cigar I could lay my hands on. I’ve said goodbye to the family, driven to the ranch, cleared out the schedule, warned all the neighbors and hands, aired the tires on the bike, replaced the spark plug on the chainsaw, drawn up a minimal schedule of exercise, and mentally committed myself to this. I’m staying here as long as it takes to get off the Marlboros, since that’s the whole point. I don’t have any illusions that I’ll wake up tomorrow and not want one, so I’m not putting that kind of pressure on myself. The last time I (obviously semi-)successfully quit, I ramped down over a few weeks to one or two per day. Which was well and good. Then, um, something happened, and I never got completely done with it. This time is going to be different. I Must Do.

So, pretty much don’t mind me for a few weeks. I’m probably going to be pretty cranky. What’s that supposed to mean, no one would notice?

Oh, the drinking? Cut WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY back on the beers. Sipping Knob Creek rocks instead. I sure do miss beer, though. Yep, sure do.

I’m no cigar expert, but this is quite possibly the finest cigar I’ve ever lit up. I had one three nights in a row. I can honestly say that I did NOT expect a decent smoke from a Bourbon St. emporium, but I have no problem recommending them to you cigar-heads out there. Mercifully, their per-box mail-order price drops down into the affordable on a daily basis range.

All my companeros had different types, and each one of them reported a good smoke, so you probably can’t go wrong. Cigar Factory New Orleans - give ‘em a try.

To quote Was, Not Was*, “Woodwork squeaks, and out come the freaks“:

I’m pretty sick of the Smoking Nazis shoving their poison and stink in my face and down my throat. If they want to poison themselves, great, but I shouldn’t have to be poisoned along with them, not even if it’s “just a little bit”. It’s inane to even argue that a non-smoker can inhale all the same poisons that cause heart and lung problems in smokers and suffer no ill effects.

You smoking nazis are scum, insisting the your right to smoke trumps my right not to breath relavtively clean air. Only an idiot would say, “Well you can’t eliminate car emmisions, so you might as well breath my smoke, too!” If we can’t eliminate ALL pollutants, then we shouldn’t worry about any? Nothing like combining arrogance with idiocy.

You smoking nazis are fond of saying, “If you don’t like smoke, then stay home.” No, if your addiction is so overwhelming that you can’t handle a night out without lighting up, then YOU stay home. And while you’re sitting on the sofa puffing on a fag, maybe you can get register yourself for a good 12 step program. Because anything with that much mindless control over your life is unhealthy on more than just a physical level.

Let’s see here:
A) I do want to “poison” myself with the rich, nicotine-y goodness that is Marlboros and Maduros. I have no desire to “poison” you, but if you happen to be within “poisoning” distance of me on my property, well, too bad and so sad. Just because my property happens to be a 4-star restaurant (or a poolhall, or a roadhouse down by the beach) doesn’t mean you have the right to tell me how to run my business. Don’t like the way I run my business? Great…refuse to do business with me. Better yet, organize a non-smoker boycott and put me out of business. I can live with either one, pal.

B) I don’t remember saying anything about elimination of automobile emissions and their relation to smoking on private property previously, but then I’m arrogant and an idiot, so I’ve probably already forgotten and I refuse to check.

C) I didn’t tell anyone to stay home. I’m a business owner. I want people to get out. I’m just not willing to tell them they must be pure of body to enter. There are plenty of places that do so, Tom, and there will surely be plenty more if there is a large demand for smoke-free restaurants and bars. I’m a money-grubbing capitalist, so I’m going to throw the doors open and say “Come one, come all!” If that offends your sensibilities, sorry. Maybe you should start your own saloon and bring in non-smoking musical acts that are appealing to the vast non-smoking market.

D) Thanks for the sound advice on quitting, Mommy. Like I don’t hear that 5,000 times a day. Here are some other addictions of mine that you could possibly offer some advice on: gambling, drinking, cussing, eating barely-cooked red meat, pecan-smoking large hunks of barnyard animials for hours, and shooting high-powered guns (long-, shot-, and hand-).

Tom, here’s what to do: go borrow some money, and open up the Absolutely No-Smoking Allowed Bar & Grill, with live music every weekend. I’d kinda like to see how long a place like that stays in business. In my vast experience, most of the night-crawling boozehounds that keep a joint in the cabbage are smokers of some stripe, but I’m quite sure that there is a sub-species of night-crawling boozehound that is aching for a jazzy, dimly-lit lounge full of hotties that is also smoke-free.

But don’t presume to tell me how to run my business or my life, and don’t go get the Nanny State Government to do it for you, either, punk.

* One of the least appreciated bands of the 80s, IMVHO.

Looks we’ve got another entry in the “No Smoker Left Behind” sweepstakes. Washington, D.C. is about to do the same ban that my city of birth has done — ban smoking on publically-accessible private property. Radley Balko lists all the reasons why this is a Bad Thing for everybody all around, including one I’d never seen before: economic impact on the businesses involved.

One need only look across the border to Maryland. Montgomery County was one of the first jurisdictions in the country to initiate a public smoking ban, and according to the Restaurant Association of Maryland, smaller bars and restaurants have been wounded by it — business is off by about 30 percent on weeknights, 50 percent on weekends. Regular smokers and social smokers simply patronized bars in Washington and other areas in Maryland where smoking was permitted.

A 50-percent drop in weekend business at most independent restaurants means fewer hours and fewer positions for wait staff, cooks, busboys and bartenders. I would guess that every one of those laid-off restaurant workers would gladly trade the negligible, questionable risks associated with secondhand smoke for a return to a regular paycheck. The AFL-CIO apparently sees differently

There’s lots of good stuff in the article — the fallacious second-hand smoke argument, the pointed fact that plenty of options exist for those who don’t want smokers within 100 yards of them, the equally pointed fact that the “push” is not a groundswell of healthy DCers but some foundation in New Jersey.

Balko also notes that DC borders heavily on Virginia, a (shudder) tobacco state, which is sure to welcome with open arms the rejected cigarette-sucking sinners from DC. That reminds me…I need to look up the numbers from Bob’s down on Lemmon (where smokers are criminals, thanks to Mommy Mayor Miller) and compare them to the new Bob’s in Plano (where they are not.)

Balko doesn’t smoke, by the way — he just doesn’t like quasi-governmental agencies telling people how to run their businesses. Me, I do smoke — like a chimney…preferably Marlboro Mediums, and the occasional dark Maduro. I’m just glad all my late-night catting-around is finished with. I couldn’t imagine hanging out in saloons and roadhouses and billiards parlors without a smoky haze.

Document extends secrecy on Area 51 in southern Nevada

CARSON CITY, Nev. (AP) — Invoking national security, President Bush has renewed an exemption allowing the Air Force to keep mum about top-secret operations at a southern Nevada base.

Sometimes I think our gubmint does these kinds of things just to keep the Art Bell / UFOs & little green men / X-Files industry chugging along. When all they’re really doing is testing new kinds of cool planes and stuff like that.

Kevin hates UT, but they have never put a Black Angus on the cover of their media guide.

A reptilian faux pas on the UF media guide: ‘See ya, later … crocodile.’

You would think that the Florida Gators would know what an alligator looks like.

But that’s not a gator on the cover of the University of Florida’s 2003 football media guide.

Thanks, Kuff!

The Other Side of Country :

Jack Sparks: The Twin Cities’ only alt-country hillbilly rant blog

Pretty much the last place you expect to find a good alt-country blog, and this I know. One of my millions of jobs involved regular trips to the TCs, and damned if I ever found any good live music in that town (Mpls, I’m talkin’ here…StP was just a teeny bit too far to drink & drive.) I was single then, too, and the good Lord knows I tried every night I was there. I was shocked that the Replacements had seemed to suck every bit of hayseed out of there.

As to Jack Sparks, well, he thinks a lot like me, and I wish I could write like him. I won’t ruin the experience by pulling something out and holding it up…wait, yes, I will:

20. Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain, Willie Nelson
Fuck you!! You’re doing it all wrong!! Let me sing it the way it should be sung!! Are you listening to the goddamned song? This is one guy singing about a daydream!! You sonsabitches don’t know shit!! I’m not going to say every major record executive in Nashville is an idiot, but they all said that this album wouldn’t sell. They all thought it wasn’t commercial enough. You’d think they would have learned their lessons. It’s amazing how stupid people are. Willie’s recording of this chestnut was dead on. There’s a lot of Sinatra in Willie’s delivery of any song, but there’s also a lot of Willie in what’s being done around the song: that old guitar, Bobby’s minimalist piano playing, Mickey’s cracker barrel harp fills and solos, etc. Probably my favorite Willie song. (The Red-Headed Stranger)

There ya go…that’s way down in the blog, so I’m not ruining much for you. Kevin, you’re gonna like this one.

Found it at LAYNE…

SURFING UPDATE: Hell, man — small world, fershur. Jack’s got Al Kunz of Rockzillaworld all over his regular-gig website. Why do I get the feeling The Wife is gonna whap me one upside the head and say “I told you about him six months ago.”?

Tobacco Shortage Makes Marines Irritable

There is a war on, and danger lurks ahead, and the Marines of the 3rd Battalion, 7th Infantry are getting desperate - for tobacco.

It’s been two weeks since they left they relative luxury of their camp in Kuwait and their supplies of cigarettes and chewing tobacco are running out. They are rationing their precious supplies, and even begging smokes from local farmers.

See what the Health Nazis have wrought with all their do-gooding? Pissed-off Marines. That cannot be a good thing for anybody, but especially not for the maggots that are holding up the deliveries of Evil Tobacco from the front. Someone from Radio Free Iraq needs to hip those fedayeen dudes to just what they’re asking for. That’s an ass-kicking I would do my best to avoid.

Found it at Fly-Over Country…

“No, really — stop! Listen to me — we banned smoking in restaurants just like LA, and New York, and Boston!”

The Dallas City Council, clearly having absolutely nothing to do, since the economy here is such great shape, there is practically no crime on the streets, all the potholes are fixed and the garbage trucks run on time, and that Trinity River Beautification Boondoggle Project is practically complete — have banned smoking so we can be like the Big Cities. After all,

“Our most important role is to protect the health and safety of our citizens,” said Councilwoman Elba Garcia.

Someone tell her I haven’t received my City Council-approved crash helmet, knee&elbow pads, and wrist guards. After all, I could fall down when I walk out of the house.

They left the bars and pool halls alone this go-round, but you can bet they’re next on the list. After all, didn’t New York City do that?

Found it at Jack’s joint,The People’s Republic of Seabrook.

Smoking Ban, Stricter DWI Standard Signed Into Law

New York, you’re becoming a panty-waist place. You’re joining the ranks of California and Boulder, fer crissake! What’s a bar that’s not smoky? Well, it’s not a bar, that’s for sure. Not a lounge, not a nightclub. Starbucks with grain alcohol is more like it. This trend, started in LA-la (well, all of California), is sweeping the nation. As a smoker who doesn’t want to and is trying to quit, I don’t really care about this, except that I don’t really care for it. It takes all the fun out of a night of live music, which is really the only reason I go to a club anymore. Now, it’s just another reason NOT to go screw with the parking problems, the belligerent drunks, the over-priced and under-poured drinks. Just think, not only will the drunks be belligerent, but they’ll be smoke-free, too, and just imagine how much fun that’s gonna be.

Besides, I just can’t get my mind around New York without smoky bars…it seems bassackwards. I’ve never been a big fan of Noo Yawk, but now I’m even less so. The few bars I’ve enjoyed in the Big Apple were sports bars during the playoffs (crazed Yankees, Mets, Giants, and Jets fans are some of my favorite people), and those joints looked like the inside of a Texas BBQ pit with the lid closed.

Found it at Asymmetrical Information…