Friday, October 31, 2008



Seems a Gatlinburg tattoo artist decided to get a little "jokey" around some Cub fan's tattoo....

I am mostly a rational man. However, many will notice that I did not write about the Cubs more than a hand's worth of times this year, and they managed to pound out a great regular season. The correlation does not go unnoticed....

I don't get enough days off to burn down a tattoo parlor.

Perhaps that is the perfect alibi....

Big Stupid Tommy couldn't have burned your tattoo parlor to the ground and pissed on the ashes, since he works like a Botard....

Thursday, October 30, 2008

Thoughts from the Ass End of the Night: Flannel Edition

Thoughts from the Ass End of the Night: Flannel Edition

Been a while since I've had to post an insomnia post. Been sleeping pretty easily here lately. I don't know if it's the Valerian Root, or just some manner of cosmic timing, but aside from a night a few nights ago, where somebody knocked insistently on my door at 2 in the morning, I've not had a real long term sleepless night in several weeks.

The thing that trips me out more than anything else? That sleepy feeling I have sitting up, at my computer right now. The same sleepy feeling I have as I sit in bed and read? How it seems to disappear entirely when I lay my head on the pillow and turn out the lights...

The alarm is supposed to go off in an hour and twelve minutes. Should I venture back?

I pulled out the flannel sheets the other night. It's gotten a touch nippy in this neck of the woods, at least for so early in the year. We might touch the freezing point tonight, I remember the weather man on the radio saying. I broke out the flannels a couple nights ago. They've got a different feel to them, and that more than anything else is what I attribute to my waking up. They're scratchy, and I believe they're whispering things to me about the upcoming presidential elections.

Perhaps I should send them long, laborious e-mails. People seem to enjoy that sort of thing.

Anyway. We're going to venture back. See what we can do about a little slumber...

Wednesday, October 29, 2008

Thus endeth the baseball season....

Thus endeth the baseball season...

Congrats to the Philadelphia Phillies.

Even more congrats to the Philadelphia fans, who've seen a lot of bullshit in their lives, and who had the presence of mind to boo the hell out of the car salesman ostensibly in charge of the game. More than any part of this World Series, I enjoyed that the most....



Well, I'm probably the last to post a word or three on the blog get together held this past weekend at Eric's house....

There's not much I can add to all the fine words said on the festivities....

I'll just say that my big ass needed a nice weekend like this, just to let some hair down and have conversations that didn't involve a.) work or b.) more fuckin' work....

I started the party a little late...this being my first weekend off since early September, there were other obligations to be met. Sadly, I missed Friday's debauchery watching my buddy Barry get pummeled by Raven in the rubber match of their ongoing feud....

Saturday, I woke to find that some bastard had egged the house and the BigStupidTommymobile. I weighed the idea of searching out the villains and dispensing a few hard-elbowed justice strikes. Since the neighbors got it as bad as I did, I decided this wasn't a personal vendetta. Instead of again wearing the mask of vigilante, I instead took a minute to wash the egg off the truck, and then wandered East, to Englewood, and the Tellico Junction Cafe.

I was, for perhaps the very first time in the year 2008, first to the party. I took a coffee (black as my soul, I told the waitress, who seemed neither amused nor bemused...).

Soon, in wandered Teresa, Boudicca, Morrigan & Sissy....I was soon to meet Bobo and Richmond, whose face I did not put with a blog until several hours later (I'm sorry to say)....I've been reading hers off and on for a good bit of time....

Erica came by...I apologized for the cancelled plans on my New York Trip a while back...she was very, very cool about the whole deal.

The usual suspects wandered in...I said my helloes to Elisson, Jimbo, Kenny, Eric, Jerry, Denny & Zonker.

It was later in the day that I got to say my helloes to Dax Montana and John Cox, who ate at the same time, and also to Redneck, later at the house....

A breakfast of too many biscuits and gravies later, I had to take care of a couple more obligations for family stuff.

I wandered back in the evening...there, we dined on ribs, and bullshat the night away....

There was an added advantage to being local to Eric's get tegether....I slept at home (even watching the last couple of outs to the Phillies/Rays game Saturday night, at 1:50 or so). I then slept, and overslept....while the rest of that crew who'd stayed at the Sleep Inn in Etowah were subject to the dangers of modern drying conveniences.....

Yep. No Draher Fahers at Casa de Big Stupid Tommy.

That I know of.


If I've left anybody out of my account, drop my dumb ass a note. It was, as always, a pleasure to see everybody....who knows...maybe next time I'll find enough time off work to hit another blogmeet somewhere in the world....



I let it slip past me, but here's a haiku aimed toward getting my ass back in gear...


Here, the day is spelled:
Double-You, Eee Dee, En, Eee
Ess, Day. Spell it right!

Heh. Worst Haiku Ever.

Tuesday, October 28, 2008



Dear Online Nerd Diary,

Today, I stepped once more into the vile morass of confusion that is the Spring Forward/Fall Back debate. Problem was, I was as indignant as hell about losing an hour sleep, when the truth is I will gain one. More embarassing? I've argued correctly this point several times...I was just looking at it from the point of view of the harried retail manager, who closes Saturday night and opens Sunday morning.

The embarrassment has led me to this decision: I do not care what time the trains arrive....when I am Emperor, I will Nationalize time.

Yep. I will eliminate time zones in America Wrestlemanialand, and I will rid us of the twice-yearly inconvenience of having to re-learn how to set the clock in the car.

When somebody asks you what time it is, after my coronation, the only correct answer will be "It is time for your ass to buy a watch."

Also acceptable: "Half Past a Monkey's Ass, a Quarter Till His Balls."

I will be a benevolent dictator.

In which he comments on the possibility of Joe Morgan leaving ESPN's broadcast booth....

In which he comments on the possibility of Joe Morgan leaving ESPN's broadcast booth...

You know, when I read of the possibility, I was eating a cup of yogurt, and I know have nearly 4 ounces of acidophilus culture down in my lungs. So great was the gasp of surprise and expectation that I might also have sucked down the spoon I was eating with, along with three pens, my keys and the Tivo remote off of my coffee table.

But there's chats along the lines of breaking up Jon Miller and Joe Morgan for ESPN's Sunday Night Baseball broadcasts.

I sit here and think that I may celebrate, but I'd probably be rewarded with something along the lines of ESPN hiring Tim McCarver to do double duty on weekend National broadcasts.

That, or somehow Eric "Nailz on a Blackboard" Young would somehow find his way into the broadcast booth.

This side of Fran Drescher, I can't think of a voice more tormenting, in the public eye....

Sunday, October 26, 2008


Bloggers...And Poetry...

Yep...I've lapsed in my goal to write 30 poems in 30 days. Gonna pick that back up tonight.

It's been a busy weekend...Wrasslin, Family stuff and perhaps foremost, a Blogger get together here in McMinn County, over at Eric's....

A few thoughts coming later, when I've had a chance to collect a thought or three...

Tuesday, October 21, 2008



My buddy Chris burned a couple CD's of Rev. Peyton's Big Damn Band for me a couple weeks ago. I'd heard these guys a couple times before...most likely on X Country on my XM...

Here lately, I find myself digging for clips and listening in my truck as high as the volume will go. Gracias, Chris. As if my Obsessive Compulsion needed fuel

This one rocks....



Here are the county-by-county numbers for voters in Tennessee's early voting. Because I like charts and graphs.

Sunday, October 19, 2008



I was giving one of the kids at work a hard time this afternoon, owing to my inability to relate to people on any normal, meaningful way.

He was happy because Tennessee won their game last night against Mississippi State.

"Game," I said. "What game?"

"THE GAME," he said. It is comforting to know that I am possibly the dullest man in history, in somebody's eyes.

"What THE Game?"

"Tennessee played Mississippi State."

"In what?"

"Football." Except, when the kid said it, it had something like 14 f's, each of them emphasizing exasperation.

"I wasn't aware Tennessee had a football team..."

What followed was a gory description of why Tennessee has been the pits this year, complete with a diatibe against "Fat Phil." As an aside...I appreciate irritation at a coach...Dusty Baker was Enemy Numero Uno for years, at Casa de Big Stupid Tommy. But to watch Vol fans abandon ship like they do when the pickings are thin? It's laughable to this Cubs fan...U.T. took a National Championship 10 years back...My grandparents weren't alive when the Cubs last won....but I digress.

The conversation wandered toward the fact that next week Tennessee plays Alabama. Upon learning this fact, I launched into the old joke about the tragedy at the University of Alabama...

"What tragedy?" he asked.

"The University of Alabama library burned down...."


"Yep. All three books were destroyed."

He stares at me.

"The last one wasn't colored in yet."

He nods slowly. I leave, satisfied that he's gotten the joke, even if he doesn't think it's that funny.

Before I get all the way out of the door, he asks:

"Did anybody get hurt?"

Friday, October 17, 2008

Tent: A Biography...or...Tommy's Kind of a Dick...

Tent: A Biography....or....Tommy's Kind of a Dick...

Several years ago, during, and shortly after finishing college, I was working for the fine jokesters at the Goodwill Industries. I did a lot of stuff, but mainly I supervised donations.

One day, when I was trying to find anything to do but my actual responsibilities, I began picking through a pallet of merchandise that had been donated to the Murfreesboro store by the local Target. Target did that a couple times a week, back in the day...they'd donate a few goods, returns and closeouts basically. I'd say they did this mostly as some manner of tax and/or inventory write-off. Most of what we got was broken and useless.

As I was picking through that particular pallet, I found a tent. A large tent. A 12x10, three room, take your family and the current President's Administration camping tent.

At the time, that particular store could not sell tents. I always got conflicting was that it somehow violated the lease agreement. Another was that there were liability issues. A third answer was that more money could be gotten for them at a different location, so we shipped them out. I always took all of those answers to be fancy-ass ways of saying "I don't know quit bothering me."

We got that tent, though, and I asked the manager of the store if I could buy it.

"Sure," she said. "Gimme a dollar."

I did, in much the manner that most transactions are performed in this country, doing my very best not to stare at her cleavage. That last part was a singular problem I had when dealing with this particular store manager, but I suppose that's something I probably should have left in the "Don't Share This Shit On Your Blog" file.

So, with the trade of a single dollar, I was now the owner of a giant-ass tent.

To this day, I'm not really sure what I was thinking when I bought the sumbitch. I already was the owner of a couple of tents, both of them more logically sized for the overnight lodging of a single or a couple of people.

I suppose I was muchly afraid that I'd end up going camping with the 1984 Chicago Cubs, and not have space for all of them to sleep. Gary Matthews was a big sumbitch, and I'll bet Leon Durham does a lot of sleep slapping in the midst of a coke fit.

I used the tent a few times. Maybe three. And one of those was probably the first time I'd set it up in my folks' backyard.

It was big. It was unwieldy. And while the novelty of being able to stand up straight inside a canvas structure not also housing three rings and a guy sweeping up elephant shit is something notable in my life, the tent did not get used too often. Mostly, it was carted around, move to move. It had lain undisturbed under the steps in my parents' basement for almost four and a half years, now.

My friend Lisa told me a little while back that she was taking her nieces and nephew camping, since she was on vacation and they were on a break from school.

(This is an aside and has little to do with anything else...but dammit kids get out of school a lot. Seems like if somebody farts too loud, they get out....)

Well, I offered them the use of the tent, since she'd be trying to sleep three rambunctious tykes in the woods for a night.

I dug it out from my parents' basement. I set it up first on their deck, mostly to protect it from a golden christening on the behalf of their dog, Max. I don't blame him. It's his job to pee on things. I wish that was my job. I'd be pretty good, and I doubt I'd have to put in much more than 40 hours a week doing that....

I then took it down, and set it up in Lisa's yard.

I should note here, that even after having putting it up twice in two days, it's still a booger to try to put together. This tent was on the back end of the first-generation of those fiberglass poled tents that replaced that klanky aluminum poles from my youth.....efficient for one person to put up, it was not.

Yesterday, I get a call at work..."I need a little help."

So, after work, I wander up toward Chilhowee, and start to set up a tent.

Now, like I said...this is a first gen tent with a lot of these fiberglass poles...some were actually fixed to the fabric.

Problem is, with multiple moves and a few years sitting in a basement, the fabric was not strong as it once was. Thus, tension was not there to keep a.) poles in place and b.) keep the top of the tent fabric in place...

AFter several minutes of trying to jury-rig the thing into place...I decided it wasn't going to work well enough to keep Lisa and the kids comfortable and dry.

A call was placed, and Shyam saved the day. A quick drive in from McMinn County, and Lisa now had a proper tent in place.....

Well, goodbyes were said, and my one-dollar tent was rolled up as well as one can in the dark. It was tossed into the back of my truck, and down the mountain I went.

There were troubles at work, so I spoke to my grocery manager on the phone as I wandered down the mountain, keeping my foot on the brake more than anything. I wasn't picking much speed up as I went.

I finished the conversation, and proceeded to drive down the mountain with my general reckless nature. I'd rolled the window down to enjoy the fall air. As I picked up speed, I heard a sound I'd never heard out of my truck. I can only describe it as "Fwip!" followed by a "Weeeeee."

I hit my breaks, and listened. I drove a little more, and did not hear the sound. I figured I'd run over a branch that I hadn't noticed, or something to that effect.

I pick up a little speed, and immediately hear the sound again: "Fump!" and "WEEEEEEE!"

I hit my breaks, and in the glow of the light on the back of the cab, I see the culprit. I hadn't rolled the tent very well at all, and as I'd picked up speed, the fabric of the tent had started to act as parachute, and had begun to inflate with the passing air. The "Weeee" sound was one of the fixed fiberglass poles scraping against the top of the bed of the pickup truck....

I do not consider myself an angry man. For the most part, I'm laid-back and easy to get along with. However, there are those at work who have lately come to witness what constant time and pressure will do....the anger is a slow boil, but it does pop to the surface more often than I like. It is a struggle...but I am slowly finding ways to deal with "the little shit."

Suffice it to say, those methods were of little effect as I happened across a dark scenic overlook with a magical sight.

There are dozens if not hundreds of these green trashcans all around the Cherokee forest now, among others. They are squarish, with a flat, latching lid that faces you almost on a parallel. They are fixed to the ground, so that they cannot be knocked over, and trash cannot be easily accessed by bears.

I'll say that these things serve a purpose I'm not sure the creators intended: They make it hella-hard to throw a tent a way.

But, it can be done. After my initial attempt at insertion was denied. I took a deep breath, and uttered the magic words: "Get in there you sumbitch..."

And with a grunt and a splintered fiberglass pole, the bulk of the tent made it into the trash receptacle.

Let me stop to say this:

1.) I'm probably tremendously lucky that I didn't pop out an eye, or something, with that broken fiberglass pole. That's generally what happens when I do something stupid. It's a bit of instant karma that I've come to appreciate in my sitting around waiting for my idiocy to bear fruit.


2.) I apologize to the Park Worker who's gotta dig that mess out. Especially since the door would not latch after I shoved the tent in. Luckily, I think that mess would likewise thwart a bear, so I think the original mission was accomplished.

After my triumph, I took a look around, stepped around the trash cans, and took a leak against the CCC-constructed wall. It was not a commentary on that fine Depression-Era project. More a confirmation that as a man, the world is my toilet.


I was kinda sad to see the tent go. But the pragmatic side of me says "it's been sitting taking up space at my folks' house for four years,'s not a great loss."

Still, I feel a bit like a dick for stuffing it in the trashcan like that. But, I suppose I'll live with that alright, especially considering my original impulse was to set the thing on fire and hurl it down the mountain.

Anyway, I don't have a good way to end this except to say I had a brief telephone conversation with Shyam after the fact...and it just further confirmed that she and I are probably two different sides of the same coin. Minutes before my trevail with the tent, she'd stopped at likely the same overlook with the same rock wall, and sat and took a quiet moment to meditate.

Leave it to me to wipe all the peace off that little ledge....

Anyway. Lisa and the kids are heading back today. A little too rainy for much fun up there. I gotta call and ask if my path of carnage is evident, as she passes by....

Thursday, October 16, 2008

Poem #4

Poem #4

I think I missed a day...I hope God, Allah and the American Dream Dusty Rhodes, and perhaps most importantly, Jillian forgive. Life gets hectic every now and then, and sometimes sleeping 3 hours a night for a few nights straight wears ya out....

Anyway...a minor effort tonight:

A Haiku

More hours a day?
It's a wish--but then, likely,
I'd just work them, too.

Write what ya know....

Is "hours" one syllable or two? I went with two, and if you said "one," I'll burn your house down.

Wednesday, October 15, 2008

How the Presidents Died...

How the Presidents Died....

This stupid site is the second item that comes up when somebody searches "How Presidents Died" on Google....

I like to think that there's some kid in the fifth grade out there, searching for information on something along the lines of how William McKinley died...or perhaps the line of succession for the Presidency....

And that kid is going to school saying that 12 of our presidents died of syphilis, and that poultergeist killed Andrew Jackson....

I also like that this thing stayed posted for four years (or however long) and I only just now saw that I'd mistakenly listed Andrew Johnson as the seventh president of the USA....

What a cad....

How the Presidents Died

Here's how the Presidents of the U.S. (prior to my birth) died.

1. George Washington (pneumonia)
2. John Adams (old age, heart condition)
3. Thomas Jefferson (alcohol poisoning)
4. James Madison (Syphilis)
5. James Monroe (Syphilis)
6. John Quincy Adams (Bear Attack)
7. Andrew Jackson (Poultergeist)
8. Martin Van Buren (Syphilis)
9. William Henry Harrison (Stupidity)
10. John Tyler (Still alive, and living in Wahoo, Nebraska)
11. James K. Polk (Spider Attack)
12. Zachary Taylor (Assassinated by the Yakuza)
13. Millard Fillmore (Syphilis)
14. Franklin Pierce (Frightened to Death)
15. James Buchanan (Beaten to death by midgets)
16. Abraham Lincoln (Oxidation of vital organs)
17. Andrew Johnson (Syphilis)
18. Ulysses Grant (Died when an alien burst out of his stomach)
19. Rutherford B. Hayes (Drowned in a vat of mustard)
20. James Garfield (Still alive, in the music of Johnny Cash)
21. Chester Arthur (Choked on his mustache)
22. Grover Cleveland (Syphilis)
23. Benjamin Harrison (Syphilis)
24. Grover Cleveland (Syphilis, already)
25. William McKinley (Killed by Duncan McLeod)
26. Theodore Roosevelt (Still serving as U.S. President)
27. William Taft (Died in an attempt to become the world's fattest man)
28. Woodrow Wilson (Syphilis)
29. Warren Harding (Died laughing at his own middle name)
30. Calvin Coolidge (Syphilis
31. Herbert Hoover (Beaten to death by clowns)
32. Franklin Roosevelt (Assassinated by Daddy Warbucks)
33. Harry Truman (Eaten by monkeys)
34. Dwight Eisenhower (Ripped to shreds by the Incredible Hulk)
35. John F. Kennedy (Oxidation of vital organs)
36. Lyndon Johnson (Syphilis)
37. Richard Nixon (Syphilis)

Tuesday, October 14, 2008

Violent Cartoon Prints...

Violent Cartoon Prints...

Laughing my arse off, via Boingboing....

Violent Cartoon Prints....
You should buy me one.

I like the last one, with Tom the Cat and the hammer....

Poem #3....

Poem #3

In an ongoing series of attempts to flail wildly at obscurity...another poem (pronounced poim) from yours, truly:

Tommy's Lamentation

Should the pig have a bark?
He was Kicked off the ark.
Noah? he said no way.

Old Noah? Too Hasty.
A Watchdog so tasty?
Man! I grieve for that day.

Two Ducks, two Mooses
Two Rats, two Gooses
Surely, Noah could play...

The man was mistaken.
I mourn barking bacon.
Will God fix this? I pray!

Monday, October 13, 2008



I was able to take in the flick Diary of the Dead the other day...

I'm not going to give a big review, except to echo what I said in my Netflix review:

I am speaking to each of you, as individuals....

If we are ever in a situation where there are potentially zombies near, and suddenly, a stranger lurches slowly, but steadily at me?

Please do something to stop that slowly lurching person. Something besides "stand there filming the approach and ensuing attack with my movie camera."

Stop him, because most likely, he's a zombie.

And if he's not...well, he deserves a punch in the temple for acting like one.

Also: If I end up bitten or otherwise hurt by a zombie, and all you do during said attack is stand there and film it? Before I die, you and I are going to have an issue or three revolving mostly around the Obligations of Friendship.

At the very least, put a bullet in my head.

I don't want to be a zombie.

Eating brain, I think, would be like eating warm, spoiled peaches slathered in in snot....

Poem #2

Poem #2

My second poem, in my friend Jillian's challenge to write a bad poem a day for 30 days:

The Night The Turkey Went Bad


At some point, between then and now, the Turkey Went Bad.

Sure, there's the smell.
Raw, rancid reak. Revolting. Refrigerated Ruin.
The Kind of Smell that Ruins a White Shirt.

It's one thing to spoil...

But the Fridge?

A war of attrition fought in the crisper.

We look for suspects.

Milk Never Murders.


Broccoli Spears.
Carrot Sticks.
Jelly Rolls.
Butter Knives.

We even have OJ.

Chicken Fingers.

The Turkey? He's the bird what did it.
Murky, Jerky, All too Perky?
It just beat the piss out the pickles.
Boiled Ham.
Deviled Eggs.
Stewed Prunes.

(I like the taste).

The Trial was Short.
Judge, Jury, Executioner, me.

Sunday, October 12, 2008

Today's funny....

Today's Funny...

From the e-mail:

One day a man walks outside and hears this strange noise coming from one of his trees. He walks over to his tree, looks up and is surprised to find the source of this noise. What he finds is a large gorilla moving around in the top of his tree trying to get comfortable.

The man stops and thinks to himself, "How on earth am I going to get this gorilla out of my tree? There aren't any gorilla catchers in Tennessee are there?"

The man walks inside his house and gets his phone book and is looking in the animal control section and lo and behold! There actually is a gorilla catcher listed, so the man picks up the phone and calls the number. He reaches the gorilla catcher who says that he'll be there in ten minutes.

The gorilla catcher shows up in a big truck with a tool box in the back. On the toolbox is sitting a very large, very mean-looking dog. Next to this dog is a very large cage.

The gorilla catcher gets out of his truck and walks up to the man and shakes hands with him. The man then takes the gorilla catcher to the tree and points up at the gorilla.

After looking at the gorilla for a minute, the gorilla catcher walks back over to his truck and gets the dog off the tool box. Then, he reaches behind the seat, and pulls out a shotgun. He walks back over to the tree and sits the gun down next to the dog, whom he introduces to the man as "Clyde."

The gorilla catcher looks over at the man and says, "Here's the plan. I'm gonna climb this here tree and knock the gorilla out. When the gorilla hits the ground old Clyde here's gonna bite him in the nuts and hold on 'til I can get out of the tree and put the gorilla in the cage. Any questions?"

The man can't think of any so the gorilla catcher starts making his way up the tree. When the catcher gets almost halfway up the tree the man notices the shotgun next to old Clyde. He quickly calls up to the gorilla catcher and says, "Hey, what's the gun for?"

"Oh!" says the Gorilla Catcher. "Glad you asked! That's in case the gorilla knocks me out of the tree, I want you to shoot old Clyde before I hit the ground."

Sunday Re-Run: Chickens

Sunday Re-Run: Chickens

I wrote this a couple years ago. I ate chicken tenders, yesterday, from Mexi-Wing, albeit a different branch. Using the logic within, I'd reckong the number of chickens I've eaten pieces of has now surpassed 7,500 easily....

If you're ever in my neck of the woods, try the Lemon Pepper chicken wings from Mexi-Wing. They've been a favorite snack of mine since I wandered back to this end of the state. They do an exceptionally good job on that fowl.

I've often wondered just how many wings I could eat in a sitting. Go in with an empty stomach and a mind for culinary mayhem. You know, just see how many wings I could put down before I passed out or little men in hairnets dragged me from the eatery.

It also gets me to wondering: How many chickens have I eaten portions of? In my life. You know, I rarely pull a Joliet Jake, and order four fried chickens. In a sitting, I'll generally just eat a piece or two of the chicken. In fact, I'm hardpressed to think of a time that I've actually sat to eat a whole chicken.

Usually, I'll eat the breast. Fried, or grilled. That's what I'll go for.

Which is not to say I don't eat drumsticks. The drumsticks are my dad's favorite part of the chicken. And I grew up getting punched in the throat anytime I went after a chicken leg, so I have something of a mental block around the leg--nay, any of the dark meat of the chicken.

I will say I've eaten my share of wings. Probably your share, too. Hot. Barbecued. The aforementioned Lemon Pepper.

But back to the question at hand: How many chickens have I eaten portions of? Today, I ate a chicken breast (as the entree), and a grand total of 8 chicken wings. The law of averages says that I ate the wings off four chickens. Now, that's a thought that pleases me to no end, to know that I'm responsible for putting to such tasty use an appendage on a chicken that works about as much as the exercise bike sitting in my parents' basement.

But we also have no clue as to whether each pair of wings actually belonged to an individual chicken. In point of fact, it is all the more likely that I could have eaten 1 wing from 8 different chickens, along with the breast of potentially a ninth chicken.

It's a day's work, I reckon. Becoming a scourge to the chicken populace of the world. If chickens had more than a peanut-sized brain, and the ability to form even a makeshift religious structure, I tend to think I'd end up on the devil's side of things. At the very least, I like to think of myself as The Chicken Boogeyman. A monster who comes out of the night to eat pieces of chickens, leaving others to my throat-punching father.

I should note that I've probably never eaten a Whole chicken. I can't think that I've ever chowed down on the head of a chicken, as I'm a whole different breed of geek. And I can't point but to seventeen or eighteen times that I've actually eaten the feet.

Never eaten the feathers, or the beak, now that I think about it.

However, I've eaten McNuggets, so I don't think I can rightfully claim to have never eaten a chicken's butthole.

Anyway. To answer a question posed previously: to put an estimate on how many chickens I've eaten part of...

We'll give a conservative average of 5 chickens a week, pieces eaten....
52 weeks a year....
27 years (give or take) of eating solid food...

My calculator says: 7,020. Damn. I should have had a party four weeks ago. I do love round numbers.

But it's a conservative estimate. I've been known to down a dozen wings without batting an eye...that's anywhere from 6 to 12 chickens right there.

My number of chickens eaten could range well up into the 5 digits.

If only I'd been keeping track of these things.

Anyway...back to the original point. Those folks at Mexi-Wing do a fine job on wings. They should. Wing is part of the name.

And when I eat the Lemon Pepper wings, it only makes me wonder how many more chickens I could have eaten, if only they'd been coated in the delectable sauce those folks use.

I wonder where that sauce came from.

Probably God.

Or a cookbook.

Poem a Day

Poem a Day

My friend Jillian's challenged her creative friends to write a poem a day for 30 days.

I am not much of a poet, but I will play along.

Today's attempt:

Right heel
Right ankle
Left hip
Left shoulder

Neck. Left and Right.

Little spot right above my right eye.

Pride, too. Though that doesn't hurt when I walk.

How poetic is Naproxin Sodium?

There is a border dispute between young and foolish, and just foolish.

Luckily, I am young at heart.

Friday, October 10, 2008

The First Track on the Soundtrack to Hell

The First Track on the Soundtrack to Hell

As goat-ass goofy as this is, it'll be in my head all day, now.





Now, I'm not an expert on doctoring, or nothin'.

But, given that most of my doctorin's been done by middle-aged men, I'd be more apt to go more often if most doctors were hot naked women, like they were in my dream last night.

Just sayin'. I'd have my deductible fulfilled by January 2, at the latest.

Thursday, October 09, 2008

Book Questions

Book Questions

Shamelessly stolen from Sheila:

Book questions:

What was the last book you bought?

Well...I took a bag to McKay's today to trade-in, so the Harlan Ellison and H.P. Lovecraft books I got weren't necessarily paid for with cash....

I bought a copy of Walter Moers's The 13 1/2 Lives of Capt. Blue Bear on Ebay, based on the snippet I read a few days back when the bright yellow cover caught my eye at Barnes and Noble....

Name a book you have read MORE than once

There aren't a ridiculous number of's a time thing, more often than not.

However, The Stand, and the first four Dark Tower books from Stephen King all pop to mind.

Cannery Row and Of Mice and Men are both favorites, and aren't daunting in terms of volume to re-read.

I read The Road early this year, and started it again the very next day.

And I've probably gone through Confederacy of Dunces and Huckleberry Finn three times each....

I want to give special mention to To Kill a Mockingbird, which I read the night before our test for it in Mrs. Lillard's class in the eleventh grade. I loved it so much the very next night, I read it again.

Has a book ever fundamentally changed the way you see life? If yes, what was it?

Unless you'd like me to go into an overlong diatribe about the profound impact Larry the Cable Guy's Autobiography had on my life, I'll just say no....

How do you choose a book? eg. by cover design and summary, recommendations or reviews?

All of the above, though by and large the largest number of what I've read over the past several years come from the recommendations of friends and family. The crazy thing about this internet/blogging thing is the number of books I've picked up and read based on reviews and recommendations from other bloggers. Sheila and Bill both get a lot of credit in that regard.

Normally, I'm not too influenced by covers, though the aforementioned 13 1/2 lives of Capt. Blue Bear is an exception....

And there are authors that I read whatever they do...Michael Chabon, Joe Lansdale, Cormac McCarthy. I guess I'll even say Stephen King, but his efforts of the past six or seven years have me waiting until the book shows up on a remainder table or in paperback....damn but he's written a lot of stuff I haven't cared for in recent years.

Do you prefer Fiction or Non-Fiction?

I go through phases, though the truth is I've been in a fiction phase for three or four years, now.

What’s more important in a novel - beautiful writing or a gripping plot?

A little from column A, a little from column B. There's an acceptable balance for each, with plenty of room to be heavy to one side or the other. I end up having very little use for one without the other, however....

Most loved/memorable character (character/book)

Huckleberry Finn
Ignatius O'Reilly
Leonard Pine, from multiple Joe Lansdale books
Everybody in Cannery Row
Harold...he of the purple Crayon
And I've got a special place for Theophilus Crowe, of Christopher Moore's various works....

Which book or books can be found on your nightstand at the moment?

The 13 1/2 Lives of Capt. Blue Bear. I'm just 20 pages in, but I'm digging it so far.

What was the last book you’ve read, and when was it?

I am close to finishing Special Topics in Calamity Physics, which is my favorite non-Cormac McCarthy book I've read this year. That's a helluva book.

Have you ever given up on a book half way in?

Hells yes. Life is too short, and I don't have anything to prove toward literacy. The last one was a stinker called "The Men Who Stare at Goats," a non-fiction piece about paranormal experiments in the military. Jon Ronson was a little too in love with the sound of his voice, and I've heard Maj. Ed Dames blather on enough listening to Coast to Coast on those insomniac nights.....

I've got plenty of books that I've hurled across the room. Sheila mentions Underworld, which beyond the Pafko at the Wall section, did very little for me. Very recently, it was Dan Simmons' The Terror, which was 200 pages of book packed into 625 pages.....

Little Things....

Little Things...

Just a few things about my life, lately....

I wandered down to Chattaboogie the other night. For the last little while, the Bijou downtown has been taking a couple nights, and picking a movie from the past and throwing it up on the big screen. I've had the opportunity to catch a couple flicks I'd never seen up on the big screen (A Christmas Story, and Monty Python and the Holy Grail), and a couple that I saw in the theaters, but simply wanted to see again that way.

They showed The Big Lebowski this week. A few weeks back, Steve Silver ranked the Coens' movies in order from his favorite to his least favorite. In his comment section, I did the same, and ranked Lebowski as my favorite Coen Brother movie.

While No Country for Old Men gets better every time I see it, I think Lebowski will hold on to that One Spot for a while. It was great to see it up on the Big Screen again, this past week. The first time I saw it, my buddy Bill was watching it for a Reviewing and Criticism class he was taking. I'd tagged along for a lack of anything better to do, and have dug the flick ever since.....

What's cool, when the flick is shot up onto a big screen, is all the little things you don't see going on in the back least when you're watching on a small screen, or when you have the movie on mainly for the background noise.

Most, if not all, don't impact the plot in any particular way, except for further establishing a setting. My eye kept going to the other bowlers in the bowling alley, anytime a scene took place in. I dunno...there was something I liked about the folks in the bowling alley. They are characters with their own stories....maybe not so outlandish as The Dude's, but slightly off-kilter stories, nonetheless. The closest I can come to putting my finger on it is that The Dude, Walter and Donnie are at home in that particular venue, in a world where anyplace else they are, at best, askew. So, too, are the other folks....

The other thing my eyes are drawn to is John Goodman's performance as Walter Sobchak. I enjoy Walter, if only for his complete lack of self-consciousness as it pertains to his complete ineptitude.

There is something entertaining in his belief that he is a principled man....and while that's a discussion for another day, I got to thinking about Walter yesterday.

All kidding aside with the title of this blog, I really don't suffer fools well at all, in this world. I try. Lord knows I try. I'll be the first to tell you that I do my share of stupid things over the course of the week...hellfire, I probably do your share of stupid things, too.

But I do very little to trouble other people with it. Maybe I realize that you're busy doing your own stupid mistakes.....

I spent 45 minutes easily, and almost an hour, on the telephone yesterday. I won't get into specifics, but at the end of the day, the subject of the telephone call ended up being somewhere in the neighborhood of $3.80.

I guess that's the irritation. I like to believe that my time is worth more than that, and that there are people in this world who operate "on the principle" of matters, rather than operating under an umbrella of pragmatism.

All I'm saying is that there comes a point where you cut your losses, and you decide how to proceed.

That last part is the most important part of the sentence. You proceed.

And quit bothering other people.

Remember...there's no advantage in a business in this day and age trying to cheat you (unless they're a gas company). Most businesses will do everything in their power to make things right.....

Funny me saying this ten minutes after writing about watching a movie from the past....and being so entertained by a character whose personality is tenuously propped up by righteous indignation concerning damn near everything.....

But I'm a man of many contradictions. You're gonna have to learn to deal with that.

At the end of the day, my point is this...

I dig the Big Lebowski for the whole tumbleweed aspect. You've got The Dude, and you've got Walter, with their diametric opposite personalities. For that matter, you've got any number of personalities within the movie, whose lifepaths go on relatively unscathed or unchanged despite the events of the movie (exceptions granted, of course, for Donnie, who dies, and for the German chick who loses a toe...and who's to say her life changes much, lighter one little toe?).

My point here, other than the one at the top of my head, is that Big Lebowski is a personal favorite for its ability to center me. It's a rare flick that puts me in a better place philosophically, but The Big Lebowski is one of the very best at it, for my money.

I'm trying my damnedest here to keep away from the cheesy, to keep from saying "I shouldn't sweat the small stuff..."

But, there it is.

Sometimes, Big Stupid Tommy needs a reminder....

It's a constant process, but I think I'm getting better at it.

The Dude Abides....

Sunday, October 05, 2008

Punch Out

Punch Out

I'm not much on video games, seeing as how I have so little time and an obsessive compulsive mindset.

But Punch OUt on the Wii? That's interesting enough that I might have to pick it up...

That one's my personal 8-Bit favorite, edging Legend of Zelda by a nose....



Swept in three. This one's a hard pill to swallow.

There is not a team in the National League that should have been able to run with you.

All credit to the Dodgers. They went out and beat you.

But you let them do it. You played back on your heels. You weren't working the counts. You were pitching to their weaknesses instead of to your strengths.

This morning, I feel like the 2008 regular season was an aberration in my life. The Cubs went out and played smart baseball for the first time in my life. They were patient at the plate. They worked counts. They set the table for the big bats. They cultivated a strong bullpen. They had an excellent fielding team. They were the top of the class.

There is no difference in how to play baseball in the regular season, and how you play in the playoffs. I believe that with all my heart. You play the game you've been playing all season, and you beat the Dodgers.


Next year, huh?

You gotta believe?

It's gonna happen?


Just show me you're a team that can get it done in the playoffs.

Saturday, October 04, 2008

In which I call bullshit...

In which I call bullshit...

Well, Tommy felt like he needed to be defined, tonight. The internet is never wrong, is it?

You are The Sun

Happiness, Content, Joy.

The meanings for the Sun are fairly simple and consistent.

Young, healthy, new, fresh. The brain is working, things that were muddled come clear, everything falls into place, and everything seems to go your way.

The Sun is ruled by the Sun, of course. This is the light that comes after the long dark night, Apollo to the Moon's Diana. A positive card, it promises you your day in the sun. Glory, gain, triumph, pleasure, truth, success. As the moon symbolized inspiration from the unconscious, from dreams, this card symbolizes discoveries made fully consciousness and wide awake. You have an understanding and enjoyment of science and math, beautifully constructed music, carefully reasoned philosophy. It is a card of intellect, clarity of mind, and feelings of youthful energy.

What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.

Thursday, October 02, 2008

Tommy 1...World 0....

Tommy 1...World 0....

I came home tonight, fairly sure that I was going to have to do some laundry.

We've got inventory this week at the store, and a fellow manager's having to deal with a family issue or two. Add to that a couple other Tombligations, and your old pal Tommy's not had a lot of free time to do some of the simple things in life.

Laundry, for example.

I just knew I was out of clean slacks and shirts.

I get home. I start loading stuff up in the basket to put into the washing machine....and I see hanging just where I'd left it three days ago, the slacks and shirt I'd hunt on the far closet door, out the way, and enough down the "out of sight" road to be out of mind.

Point is....instead of doing laundry, I get to laze about for a minute, watching the Phillies beat the Brewers, instead of running willy-nilly all about creation to have clean clothes to wear to work tomorrow.

It's not as good as finding folding money in a coat pocket.

But you get the idea.

Seems that in the eternal battle of Tommy vs. Universe, Tommy wins this round....