Separated at Birth?
NBC Late-night Funnyman Jay Leno
Houston Astros Outfielder Lance Berkman
Stanley Kubrick, here whispering to Peter Sellers on the set of "Dr. Strangelove."
Monday, May 31, 2004
Saturday, May 29, 2004
Ye Olde Difference-Between-the-Sexes Humor
(courtesy, R.B., a reader in Lake Jackson)
He said . . . I don't now why you wear a bra; you've
got nothing to put in it. She said . . . You wear
pants don't you?
He said .. . Shall we try swapping positions tonight?
She said . That's a good idea - you stand by the
ironing board while I sit on the sofa.
He said . . .. What have you been doing with all the
grocery money I gave you? She said . .Turn sideways
and look in the mirror!
On a wall in a ladies room .. . "My husband follows
me everywhere" Written just below it . .. . " I do not"
Q. How many honest, intelligent, caring men in the
world does it take to do the dishes?
A. Both of them.
Q. How does a man show that he is planning for the
future?
A. He buys two cases of beer.
Q. What is the difference between men and government
bonds?
A. The bonds mature.
Q. Why are blonde jokes so short?
A. So men can remember them.
Q. How many men does it take to change a roll of
toilet paper?
A. We don't know; it has never happened.
Q. Why is it difficult to find men who are sensitive,
caring and good-looking?
A. They already have boyfriends.
Q. What do you call a woman who knows where her
husband is every night?
A. A widow.
Q. Why are married women heavier than single women?
A. Single women come home, see what's in the fridge
and go to bed. Married women come home, see what's in
bed and go to the fridge.
Q. What is the one thing that all men at singles bars
have in common?
A. They're married.
Man says to God: "God, why did you make woman so
beautiful?" God says: "So you would love her."
But God," the man says, "why did you make her so
dumb?" God says: "So she would love you."
Friday, May 28, 2004
Another Anonymous Blogger
Who's the A-List celebrity that's tantalizing Hollywood with his pseudonymously written Blog? The Clute-based daily surely will pounce on this one should "Rance" lance a certain local editor's fragile feelings, say the gals down at the courthouse typing pool.
Link to "Rance"
Thursday, May 27, 2004
What, Quintana Worry?
In keeping with the theme of the last few days, we link to The Houston Press story this week by Sarah Fenske about the teeny tiny Brazoria County island village of Quintana, where the hard-drinkin', sunblock-eschewing residents and their elected leaders essentially have sold their soul to the company store -- a huge Liquefied Natural Gas terminal facility linked to President Bush's recently remarried brother Neil.
The village will get a million bucks a year in the deal, and the townsfolk, save for a few, figure they're already surrounded by stuff that could blow them all to kingdom come, so what the hey. Yup.
LINK
The old Quintana "swing bridge" (above) was replaced with a taxpayer-funded $10 million span after plans for the LNG terminal got underway. As we recall, officials touted improved hurricane evacuation as a reason for the pricey bridge. Obviously, the new bridge should help facilitate the mobilization of medical personnel to Quintana in the event the LNG terminal incinerates the fatalistic residents of the sparsely populated isle. That's not a half-empty (as opposed to half-full) view of the situation, just good planning, in our opinion.
Wednesday, May 26, 2004
The Sweet Smell of Benzene
Anyone smell benzene on May 1, about 2 p.m.-ish?
About 414 lbs of the stuff leaked into the air over at Dow that day, along with about 16.9 lbs of ethylbenzene, 1.21 lbs of toulene and a pound of diethylbenzene.
Dow officials at first said they thought a lightning strike caused the "emission event," but upon further review (to coin the NFL phrase) it was attributed to "multiple relief devices ... relieving to the flare."
Like we were saying yesterday, that's the way things go here in Paradise. Valves fail, people make boo-boos, shit hits the fan. Not casting aspersions here. That's just our realist view of life on the Texas Petrochemical Coast. Like the old guy Mobster character portrayed by Lee Strasberg in Godfather 2 said, "This is the business we have chosen."
Or where we have chosen to live, as the case may be.
The world has decided it needs all the plastic stuff Dow (and others) make, and no one raises much hell when benzene or other stuff get leaked, and we're all gonna die someday anyway, so relax.
And we need gas, too, besides all the plastic. Same deal. Stuff happens. There are "emission events" at refineries like the Chevron Phillips complex in nearby Sweeny, where more benzene (33 lbs) escaped, along with a bunch of other stuff, on May 15. The "event" began at 5:25 pm and continued for 3 hours before the cause was discovered.
When it was discovered, quick action was taken. Yup, they closed a valve. Dang!
If you really REALLY want to know what happened, read the next italicized paragraph, but if you really don't want to immerse yourself in this information, just skip it. (Ed. note: It's italicized for your reading comfort, not because most of you have any remote interest in this stuff, but if you wade into it, you just may decide that you made the right decision not to pursue that engineering degree your daddy was pushing all those years ago) ...
Here goes, gulp:
"The Regenerative Thermal Oxidizer (RTO) tripped off-line at 17:25 and was restarted at 20:25 am. The RTO is the control device for the wastewater treatment system. When the RTO is off-line, vapors from the wastewater treatment system which contain VOC are vented to the atmosphere through the Aeration Tank 69. The RTO shutdown due to a high temperature alarm. It was discovered that a controller on a fuel gas valve had received a bad reading on oxygen content which caused the valve to fully open. This controller reads oxygen content in the vapors at the compressors which collect vapors from Wastewater Treater #1 and the loading racks and routes to the RTO. The controller compares the oxygen content to hydrocarbon content (ratio) in the vapor to ensure the vapors stay above the UEL (upper explosive limit). This valve allows fuel gas into the system to keep the ratio in a safe range. It appears to have received a bad reading for the Oxygen content. When this happens, as a safety feature, the fuel gas valve fails open to ensure enough fuel gas is in the line to keep the vapor above the UEL. The excess fuel gas in the feed to the RTO caused an elevated BTU content in the vapor feed to the RTO resulting in high exhaust temperature at the RTO. The RTO automatically shutdown as a safety precaution when the exhaust temperature exceeds 450 F. When the RTO shuts down, the valve on top of Tank 69 opens to the atmosphere. Once the problem was discovered, the valve on the fuel gas line was closed. The RTO was cooled down and restarted as soon as possible. "
WHEW!
But then, 3 days later, another emissions event strikes again at the same refinery, AND, at that SAME TANK 69! It happened at 5 a.m. and ended at 8:20 a.m.
Since some of you are about to nod off by now, only the annoted version of the report is presented herewith:
"...compressor...shut down...vented vapors...compressor was restarted...no problems..."
Here's the toll of the second emissions event at pesky Tank 69:
1-Butene 3.0 lbs (est.)
Benzene 20.0 lbs (est.)
Butane 2.0 lbs (est.)
Ethylene 4.0 lbs (est.)
N-Hexane 1.0 lbs (est.)
Pentane 2.0 lbs (est.)
Pentene 1.0 lbs (est.)
Propane 5.0 lbs (est.)
Propylene 2.0 lbs (est.)
There are more of these emission events to report on, but not now and maybe not ever, as far as The Brazosport News is concerned. Let the Clute daily or the new paper in Angleton worry about it. Besides, nothing went kablooey in the aforementioned events. No one's dead. Or hurt. As far as we know. And benzene dissipates rather quickly, they say. SO HAVE A NICE DAY!
In the Parlance of Our Times
Things happen...
Machinery fails. Substances combust. Flares burn. People goof up.
Sometimes, things go kablooey. Kablooey doesn't happen that often, considering the volatile mix on the petrochemical coast of TX.
In the parlance of our times, there are "emissions events."
Nonjudgmental Translation: Shit happens. Whattya gonna do?
Not that many people, as best we can tell, are all that upset about any of it. Gotta work. Gotta eat. We have cheaper gasoline that the people in California. Yippie!
Sometimes, wrists must be slapped. Shareholder value be damned!
The guilty range from the mighty multinational giants to the Girl Scouts. The recent tally:
ExxonMobil Oil Corporation; DOCKET NUMBER: 2002-0722-AIR-E; IDENTIFIER: Air Account Number JE-0067-I, Air Permit Numbers 19566/PSD-TX-768M1, 18277/PSD-TX-802, 18276, 1202, and 655; LOCATION: Beaumont, Jefferson County, Texas; TYPE OF FACILITY: petrochemical refining; RULE VIOLATED: 30 TAC §§101.20(1) and (3), 113.340, and 116.115(c), 40 CFR §§60.592(a), 60.482-7(d)(1), and 63.648(a), Air Permit Number 19566/PSD-TX-768M1, and THSC, §382.085(b), by failing to repair valve 3005 while the hydrocracker facility was shutdown; 30 TAC §115.354(2)(C) and 40 CFR §60.482-7(a), by failing to perform monthly monitoring of accessible valves following installation or discovery in order to establish two consecutive months of leak-free operation; 40 CFR §60.487(c)(2)(i), by failing to report valve 5922 in the semi-annual equipment leaks report for the period from July 1, 2000 - December 31, 2000; 30 TAC §111.111(a)(4)(A)(ii), by failing to record daily notations for 24 days in the flare log for process flares from January 1, 2001 - December 31, 2001; 30 TAC §116.115(b)(2)(G) and (c) and maximum allowable emission rate (MAER), by failing to limit sulphur dioxide (SO 2 ) emissions, by failing to limit emissions of CO, particulate matter of ten microns or greater, and NOx , failing to limit the hourly CO emissions from the hydrocracker stabilizer reboiler heater H-3304 stack during an event which occurred December 12, 2001, and by failing to limit the hydrocracker's fuel gas concentration of hydrogen sulfide to less than 150 parts per million by volume; Air Permit Numbers 18277/PSD-TX-802 and 18276, by failing to limit the SO 2 emissions from 14 emission points during events which occurred July 22 and December 20, 2001 and January 21, 2002; Air Permit Number 1202, by failing to limit SO 2 emissions from boiler 22 to the applicable permitted MAER limits during an event which occurred June 15, 2001; 30 TAC §115.354(4), by failing to monitor a pressure relief valve within 24 hours after it vented to the atmosphere; 30 TAC §115.352(2), by failing to repair valves within 15 days after leaks were detected; Air Permit Number 655, by failing to provide a carbon absorption system; and 40 CFR §60.482-9(a), by failing to repair a valve when the emissions of purged material resulting from immediate repair are not greater than the fugitive emissions likely to result from the delay of repair; PENALTY: $150,462.
(Next installment, recent emissions events.)
Monday, May 24, 2004
Live, From Luby's
For years my most memorable experience at Luby's dated all the way back to Oct. 16, 1991. It had nothing to do with the food. Me and about a thousand other reporters went to the Luby's in Killeen that day to ask whoever happened to be standing around what on earth would possess George Hennard to drive his pick-up through the cafeteria's plate glass window and then calmy shoot 23 people to death. Nobody had a very good answer.
Flash forward to May 24, 2004. We're at the Luby's in Lake Jackson. It's about 8 p.m., 30 minutes til closing. I ordered the chicken fried steak. Scooter ordered liver. Scout, home from college for the summer, chose a piece chicken that looked like it had been sitting out for a few hours, unable to entice anyone until we walked in, too hungry to give much thought to the big picture of what we would soon be stuffing into our mouths.
The cafeteria was pretty deserted. Maybe a dozen people scattered about the facility. I was well tucked into my CFS when Scooter remarked something about a wedding. I looked to my right, but only briefly because I was keeping my eye on the CFS, and saw two microphone stands and a couple guitars leaning against a pair of Luby's dining room chairs.
Yeah, must have been some kind of party or something. In Luby's? Uh, whatever. I refocused on the task at hand. There were mashed potatoes with gravy and fried okra also on the agenda. No pie, though, and that is always a tragedy.
A few minutes passed.
Then, off to the side, there was guitar strumming. Two people, a guy and gal, were playing the guitars, and the guy, dressed in black with hair greased back all Elvisy, started singing an old song once made famous by The King.
Holy mother of God, Luby's has entertainment? LIVE entertainment?
Why would this flabbergast me? I don't know. Because I've never seen it before? During any of the thousands of cafeteria meals from Tucson to Tucumcari to Tulleyville, during my entire life, there has been no "act" to entertain the diners. Because live entertainment isn't, well, a forte of any restaurant anywhere in the Greater Brazosport Area? Because the guy looked and sounded like The King? All of the above.
The singer? I've seen him once before. Over at the Lake Theater, where they have the weekend hootenanies and hoedowns. Heath is his name. Just one word. Heath. In my opinion, he has a fine singing voice. And you have to admire a performer who's willing to perform at Luby's 4 nights a week to pursue his calling. When he was a boy, envisioning his path to stardom, performing in a cafeteria probably wasn't in the dream.
Moreover, Heath has the snarly lip of Elvis. He's a little shorter than E was, but he's also not as fat as the old Elvis, which is a good thing for Heath, who used to live in Houston but now resides in Sweeny.
He followed the Elvis song with a Roy Orbison song, then an Everly Brothers song. Then he was finished. Some in the crowd applauded after each number, including us. Scooter applauded even though, as an LA girl, she professed astonishment at the spectacle of live entertainment in a small Texas town's cafeteria.
"I've gotta get out of here," she said, laughing. Not out of the cafeteria. She meant out of this town. It's a refrain that comes up from time to time.
Scout laughed through it all, too, thinking, more than likely, that her parents are weird, and that she can't believe she's gonna be stuck here in this one-horse town for the better part of a summer.
But, I'll tell you what. I'm happy to have a new and better Luby's memory to replace the last one, in Killeen. Heath takes the Luby's stage...Correction, there is no stage per se ... Monday through Thursday, 4:30 to 8:30. I'll be back and next time, I might just get up and dance, but probably not.
(P.S. Heath said he's performing Friday night @ The Lake.)
Saturday, May 22, 2004
ATTENTION, EARTHLINGS
DO NOT BE ALARMED AT THE ENORMOUS SIZE OF MY HEAD. I COME TO YOUR PLANET IN PEACE. PROCEED TO YOUR NEAREST PLACES OF WORSHIP TO AWAIT FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS. WE WILL BEGIN BOARDING THE SPACESHIPS IN APPROXIMATELY 24 HOURS. THAT IS ALL.
Friday, May 21, 2004
Psychic Dog Story
(courtesy, a reader in Austin)
An elderly lady phoned her telephone company to report that her
telephone failed to ring when her friends called - and that on
the few occasions when it did ring, her pet dog always moaned
right before the phone rang. The telephone repairman proceeded
to the scene, curious to see this psychic dog or senile elderly lady.
He climbed a nearby telephone pole, hooked in his test set, and
dialed the subscriber's house. The phone didn't ring right away,
but then the dog moaned loudly and the telephone began to ring.
Climbing down from the pole, the telephone repairman found:
1. The dog was tied to the telephone system's ground wire via a steel chain and collar.
2. The wire connection to the ground rod was loose.
3. The dog was receiving 90 volts of signaling current when the phone number was called.
4. After a couple of such jolts, the dog would start moaning and then urinate on himself and the ground.
5. The wet ground would complete the circuit, thus causing the phone to ring.
Which goes to show that some problems can be fixed by pissing and moaning.
Remember, life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.
Another blogger gone astray
The Brazosport News never talked about sex. As far as I can remember. Better check the archives. Too bad she didn't work for Sheila Jackson Lee, who lives by the motto "any publicity is good publicity" -- even if it involves The Gloved One. Or Ron Paul, who doesn't have a motto as far as we know. Or Tom DeLay, whose motto is, oh, never mind.
A chronology of "Who is this ho?" -- courtesy, Wonkette.com
Midnight Writer, explained
In a worldwide exclusive last week, we revealed that Houston radio personality Dan Patrick was the man behind the Midnight Writer pseudonym that's featured on the Houston Chronicle-bashing weblog Chronically Biased.
Now, in yet another worldwide exclusive, we can report that Patrick and others are secretly involved in the pseudonymously penned rants.
Background: Patrick's byline appeared, then suddenly disappeared, when the Midnight Writer's first screed made its intial online broadside. A generic "staff" byline replaced Patrick's byline, but not before I saw it with my own peepers and quickly told the world via this weblog, ie. The Brazosport News. Since then, the wussyish, generic staff byline has been placed atop the Midnight Writer's incendiary prose.
Kevin Whited, the writer behind the Publius Texas weblog (which also regularly nips at the heels of the uber-sensitive Chron), explained what the real story is behind the Midnight Writer, in an exclusive interview with The Brazosport News.
"That one's on me," he said of the Patrick's byline snafu on the first Midnight Writer communique. "The Midnight Writer is Dan Patrick's idea, for a "mystery" writer among the merry crew to post at midnight most nights. Except I didn't realize he wanted it to be (a) mystery, I thought he wanted it to named. So yep, you caught us -- me actually. :) But the writer won't always be Dan. Necessarily. I don't think."
Curiously enough, Whited did not know that Patrick, in his former life as a KHOU Channel 11 sportcaster, had painted his face blue during his sportscast to show solidarity with the then-hot Houston Oilers (who moved to Nashville, TN many years later, still disgusted and embarrassed at Patrick's clownish face-painting antics) "Maybe we can work that in somehow," Whited said of the face-painting schtick. " Maybe I will paint my face blue. If I don't start sleeping more, maybe it will turn blue all on its own. :)"
If so, we will do our best to report it. Accurately and Fairly, so You can decide.
Chronicle meeting clarified
We were contacted surreptitiously by a Houston Chronicle employee regarding our posting several weeks back (before our revamped look was launched) regarding the report on the Houston daily's sexual harassment seminar. The employee, who requested anonymity, said the seminar's aim was not strictly, or even primarily, about sexual harassment issues, (even though a female staffer has been accused of same against a male staffer, which has jaws in the newsroom and at city hall flapping).
Rather, the attorney chairing the seminar first told the assembled staff members to "quit whining." The lawyer, a handsome female African American who was impeccably attired, told the Chronistas that there were thousands of people who would be glad to have their jobs and that they were fortunate to be gainfully employed. So stop the bellyaching, she added for emphasis. Employee morale did not noticeably skyrocket at this announcement, though many continued to munch on cookies and other snacks that were provided, at no charge. Meanwhile, we're told, the Chron has canned a veteran reporter, regarded by many as a fine writer, as the newspaper continues striving toward increased multicultural diversity and its ultimate goal, a Pulitzer Prize, which will be placed on public display surrounded by red, white & blue bunting in the lobby at 801 Texas, when it is awarded.
Wednesday, May 19, 2004
Bud to Moises: Urine a Heap o' Trouble
Bladder problem, Bud?
TO: Moises Alou
Wrigley Field
Chicago, IL
FROM: Bud Selig
Commissioner, Major League Baseball
New York, NY
Dear Moises,
Congratulations on the fine season you and the Cubbies are having. If the remainder of the season is anything like the first quarter of the campaign, baseball fans are in for a big treat.
I am concerned, however, at recent media reports, beginning with a story on ESPN.COM, about an aspect of your training regimen, ie., the soaking of your hands in your own urine. This apparently is done to toughen the callouses on your hands so they can withstand the rigors of a full season without the use of batting gloves.
Moises, I have never heard of this practice, let alone tried it myself, but I must say I was shocked. As you know, big leaguers like yourself are role models to youngsters around the world. Can you imagine the repercussions this may have? When one of the league's best hitters' training methods includes soaking his hands in body waste, whether it's No. 1 or No. 2, it's not hard to imagine youngsters everywhere, from the Dominican Republic, your homeland, to Los Angeles, wanting to follow suit. They think it will give them "the Moises edge."
I shudder at what could happen. A young mom, perhaps single, on a modest income and living in a rat-infested tenement somewhere, is trying to potty train her young son. Perhaps he's a bedwetter, with low self esteem. "J.J., go potty before you go night-night." "OK, mom, but I'm gonna use this bucket when I have to go, so I can save my pee-pee for when I wake up. We have a big game tomorrow. I wanna be like Mr. Alou."
Moises, what if the child bites his fingernails while following your example? What if he forgets to wash up before dinner? You, and Major League Baseball, don't want to be held responsible for that.
Even in Arab countries, where everyone eats with their fingers, men traditionally use their left hand while relieving themselves, thus keeping their right hand clean for eating. And they don't shake hands with their left hands for that very same reason. If you ever get sent on a goodwill tour to Riyadh and shake hands with an Arab, it would be a cultural slap in the face by MLB -- whether you use your left OR right hand! Should MLB ever expand to Saudi Arabia or any of the other Arab lands, your callous-hardening practices could throw their whole left hand/right hand traditions into disarray. The region is a powder keg as it stands now, Moises. This issue would not dampen the danger and possibly lead some radicals to claim their long-held traditions are under further assault from the West.
Allow me to offer two alternatives:
1. Start using batting gloves, thus obviating the need to harvest your own urine. There very likely could be endorsement money in this option. Madison Avenue would love to mount an ad campaign built around the decision by Moises Alou to forsake urine for batting gloves. Any number of sports equipment companies would leap at a chance like that.
2. If batting gloves don't feel like the right solution, how about pickle juice? Pitchers for years have soaked their fingers in pickle brine to ward off blisters. Some of the great names in the game have done this. If you chose to go the pickle brine route, I have little doubt a product tie-in with a pickle company, let's say Vlasic, could prove to be very lucrative in the commercial television/print mediums. The hygienic advantages are obvious, and the mothers and fathers of young ballplayers will recognize that you care about good hygiene being practiced among the next generation.
Finally, as you know, as commissioner of Major League Baseball, it is my duty to act "in the best interests of the game." I and my predecessors have done so when dealing with some very touchy issues, most recently the Pete Rose gambling controversy. That issue has dragged on for what seems like eons and, quite frankly, is a huge pain in my ass. Think of the worst case of hemmorhoids you have ever experienced, then multiply that by 1,000. That summarizes the Pete Rose case for me. I just hope this situation with you and the way in which your urine is used can be resolved without adding to my discomfort and causing further embarrassment to the game we both love.
I hope you have a very successful season, Moises, but please, think seriously about moving forward with a different training program. I hope and pray I won't be reading or hearing anything more about your urine this baseball season.
Sincerely,
Bud Selig
Tuesday, May 18, 2004
note to readers
Lots of new readers, foreign & domestic, to the blog, largely due to someone (OK, it was me) linking the "Deadwood" post on an HBO msg board.
Changes on right side sidebar of the page: added stories written about us way back when. See "History." This done when we noticed via our site meter referral page function some of you were searching out more info. Included is a story written by our founder for "Neiman Reports," the quarterly publication put out by the Neiman Foundation, the Harvard-affiliated "journalism think tank" (Oxymoron Alert!)...
The note about the author moving to Santa Barbara, CA, while intended to be true at the time, did not happen. It's a long story.
Also, under "Lost Archives," added old postings that were lost when the site was taken down, briefly, in July 2002, when caca hit fan. Some postings are still missing, though.
Have a swell day and feel free to post comments in the Guest Book on the right sidebar or at the bottom of this post, where it says "comments." You can do so anonymously.
Sunday, May 16, 2004
Deadwood's Deleted Dialogue
In Deadwood, the bloody and profane HBO series about the Old West, the characters utter foul language at such a rapid clip that some viewers question whether the show accurately reflects everyday language in the 1870s.
The dialogue isn't just salty. It's salted, peppered and marinated overnight in a stew of f-words, p-words and dreaded c-words.
Historically accurate? Don't know.
Some suspect the verbal assault spat from the cast of thieves, whores and murderers is more a product of our own profanity-laden times instead of a true depiction of the lexicon in pre-territorial Dakota land.
Wisely, though, story editors realized some dialogue in the original scripts were, in fact, embarrasingly reflective of the young script writers' current life experiences rather than a reflection of covered wagon days. Those scenes were cut or rewritten.
The deleted scenes somehow slipped into the hands of The Brazosport News.
Episode 3
Wild Bill Hickock, drinking heavily while mired in a losing streak at the poker table, talks about the last man he killed:
"Dog, I popped a cap in his ass. The mo'fo got in my face and was disrespecting me big time. And I was like, `Bam! Bam!' And he was all, `Whoa, dude.' "
Episode 5
Saloonkeeper/brothel owner Al Swearengen instructs Trixy the prostitute to make sure widowed society matron Alma Garret resumes her opium use so he can cheat her out of her gold claim:
Swearengen: "I want her higher than `Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds.'
Trixy: "She's Jones-ing big-time now."
Swearengen: "I want her trippin' her ass off."
Trixy: "I'm down with that, Al."
Episode 6
Smallpox strikes Deadwood. Doc Cochran tells the camp's leaders what must be done:
"I want that vaccine -- STAT!"
Episode 10
Hotelier E.B. Farnum reacts to his appointment as mayor of the fledgling Deadwood government:
"Is that not totally awesome? I'm geeked, dude. Totally."
Episode 2
Following Custer's Last Stand at the Battle of Little Big Horn, newspaperman
A.W. Merrick talks about the story with Swearengen.
Merrick: "The native Americans lured Custer into a trap."
Swearengen: "The who?"
Merrick: "The native Americans."
Swearengen: "Holy crap. The Pioneer's gone multicultural."
Episode 8
Calamity Jane, after Wild Bill Hickock's death, goes on a grief-induced drinking binge, then returns to Deadwood and is confronted by a friend.
Jane: "How am I? My fuckin' head hurts. I've been fuckin' drunk for 5 days!"
Friend: "One's too many and a hundred's not enough."
Jane: "Here's a quarter. Call someone who cares."
Friend: "Jane, you're powerless over alcohol."
Jane: "I forgot my higher power."
Friend: "One day at a time, Jane. Progress, not perfection."
Episode 9
Seth Bullock, former lawman-turned-shopkeeper, makes a play for Alma Garret, but must first explain his current marital situation.
Bullock: "I'm in a transitional period."
Garret: "There are lots of available women here in Deadwood."
Bullock: "Hos & bitches. Skanks."
Garret: "Well..."
Bullock: "YO, I'd like to hang with you."
Garret: "Oh...my...gosh."
Bullock: "Is that cool?"
Garret: "Word."
Bullock: "Yesss!"
Moments later, they're entwined in the dance of lust, on the floor.
(Fade to black, bring up banjo music)
Saturday, May 15, 2004
The Passion of Dan Patrick
For a certain age demographic, Dan Patrick, no matter what he does, will always be the guy who painted his face blue to show support for the hometown Houston Oilers during his TV sports report back in the '70s Luv Ya Blue Days.
Now, it can be reported, he has decided to put on another hat, that of an anonymous Weblog Super Hero, The Midnight Writer. It appears on the brand new "Chronically Biased" blog, aimed at the Houston daily's purported left-wing bias. Sigh.
HTML SNAFU? OR CRY 4 HELP?
When the masked superhero launched his first blog (tying Janet Jackson's boobie to Iraqi POW abuse), it announced precisely @ 12:01 AM Saturday:
"This column is for those who like the night. The Midnight Writer likes the night. He gathers strength and wisdom from the quiet and stillness of the night. He sees with total clarity through the darkness discovering the truth where others are blind. You will never know the true identity of the Midnight Writer. However, trust that he is watching and observing a world seemingly lost in darkness. It is in the darkness that he sees the light. Watch for the Midnight Writer: `not gonna catch me now, not gonna catch the midnight writer.'”
The Greg Allman-inspired prose, however, appeared under Patrick's byline!
Hey-OOOO.
This confused and delighted me.
I played along, typing in a comment to the mysterious man's blog, asking if the Midnight Writer had ever painted his face blue, currently hosted a low-rated talk show on Houston radio, etc., etc.
Moments later, the Patrick byline vanished and was quickly replaced by a "staff byline."
POSSIBLE UPSHOT?
Dan?
Dan?
The doctors are here now. Come on, pal. Here's your suitcase. Your toothbrush and night clothes are packed. Clean socks, clean underwear. Yes, your Bible's in there, too. The doctors, they look like very nice people. They're going to take you to a nice place that's real quiet. You can get some good rest there.
Yes, I think they'll let you listen to the radio. Sure. No, not just FM radio, AM radio, too, any kind of radio you want.
Your laptop? I don't know if they'll give you your computer. Maybe in a few weeks. We'll see. Come on, now. Here, put on your cap. Everything will be OK...
Friday, May 14, 2004
Pump 'n Run Scalawags Hit B'port
The Scene: Wag-A-Bag #2, Oak Street, Lake Jackson. Consumers, mostly young males, are giving the clerk what-for about the high gas prices the last week or two. This is a Chevron outlet, across the street from the Lake II Theater (Elvis tribute acts, etc.), maybe a quarter mile from the Lake Jackson P.D. Clerk, female in her late 20s, is all, `Hey, I just work here' to the hostile clientele. It's getting worse, she says. Today, 2 pump 'n runners hit. Happening all over town, she says. One of her scofflaws was driving a camper-RV vehicle! "What can I do? Run after 'em down the street?" she says, hand on her hip. Hmmm, call the cops maybe? Call O.P.E.C.? The owner has to re-set the pumps to require payment before pumping. But he's outta town right now. Premium: $1.99/gal. (UPDATE:Premium @ Wag-A-Bag today, 5-18-04, now $2.079. Damage:$36.85 for 17.723 gallons. Doh!)RAIN REPORT:2" in last 24 hours ending @ 11 am Fri. 5-14-04
Thursday, May 13, 2004
Hogan, Klink, Schultz: Completely Freaked Out Over Developments at Abu Ghraib P.O.W. Lockup
HOGAN: "The Nazis were enemies, but there was a certain amount of respect there, even during the bad times. The Krauts were bored and basically just wanted to cover their asses and stay outta trouble with their superiors. Getting shipped to the Russian Front was their big fear. Running a POW camp was a light duty compared to bayonetting drunken Bolsheviks. There was none of the sexual crap back then, like we're hearing in Iraq, except for, well, when me and the Colonel's secretary stole away for some private time. She was a hot fraulein, and very sweet. Loved her pigtails. But none of of it was coerced. We both just had certain needs. The sexual weirdness, for me, began after I came home and got into video. Hell, that's what got me murdered in Arizona. Man, what I would have given to have a digital camera back then. So much more portable. In the POW camp, no, I mean, Schultz never asked me to wear women's panties on my head and stand on a stool. But Klink's secretary, well, she was adventurous, I guess you'd say..."
COL. KLINK: "I tell you, the American prisoners were complete pains in my backside, always escaping and trying to discover our secrets. And so smug! Always talking about baseball. Always baseball. Joe Dimaggio. Blah. What a boring American pasttime. I didn't understand them. Even so, there was never any thought to placing foreign objects into any orifices to 'soften them up' for the Gestappo. And, what's with the naked pyramids in the Iraqi prison? Who dreams up these things? We would order them to the cooler or cut their rations when they would escape or try to make those radios they were always tinkering with, but sexual antics? No, that wasn't in our portfolio. That's something I can say would never have occurred to me, to be quite honest. Mrs. Klink, not to mention General Burkhalter, would not stand for it. Perhaps there's a moral vacuum today that wasn't present during our war. It's difficult to say. Perhaps it's this MTV influence I keep hearing about..."
SCHULTZ: "I would whisper to Col. Hogan, 'Colonel, if you ever escape for good, -- please would you take me with you?' He would always have a chuckle at that. Hogan and the rest of them, they were not bad people but one didn't want to become too friendly with them. They would certainly not hesitate to take advantage of any opportunity they could to help the Allied cause. Col. Klink -- what an unhappy man -- was always on my ass, too, so I had to be concerned with both him on the one hand and Hogan and his "heroes," as they called themselves, on the other hand. Yes, yes, I raised my voice at the Americans many, many times, and sometimes lost my temper, I must admit, but I had no desire to humiliate them or take liberties. The Geneva Convention prohibited anything of that sort. From my point of view, it was best to know nothing and hear nothing. I said that many times. `I know nothing!' It became a bit of a catch phrase around the camp and the Americans would mimic me. I'm not sure why it gave them such joy, but it seemed to relieve the tedium. For the circumstances, I think both sides tried to get along."
Wednesday, May 12, 2004
Titanic's Little Known Story
Titanic was one of the biggest boxoffice movies of all time -- even though we already knew how it ended before we bought a ticket.
Cause it was a movie and, thus, under time constraints, a number of "back stories" could never be explored in Titanic. That's why I almost always get more enjoyment from the book, instead of the movie made after the book, cause there's just more "meat on the bone," so to speak. There are exceptions, naturally. All the "Ernest" movies held up better than the books on which the films were based, in my opinion.
But back to the Titanic and one of its little known stories that the movie completely ignored. Which is understandable. After all, many many lives were lost.
Anyway, back in 1912 the Titanic's cargo included 12,000
jars of mayonnaise, which were scheduled for special delivery to the port of Vera Cruz, Mexico, the next port of call for the great ship after its stop in New York.
At the time, it was to be the largest single
shipment of mayonnaise ever delivered to
Mexico. As we know, the great ship did not make it
to New York cause it hit an iceberg and
sank in the icy waters of the North Atlantic.
The people of Mexico, according to Mexican periodicals at the time, considered mayonnaise a delicacy, and were disconsolate at the
news of the Titanic's sinking. Their anguish was so great, and Mexico's leaders were so eager to share the pain of their people and avoid the possibility of civil unrest, that a National Day of Mourning was declared.
Amazingly, that "day of mourning" is still observed today as it was so many years ago, which is why the 5th of May became forever known as "Sinko De Mayo." 
Convenience, it's all a matter of perspective
Great news for Dow Chemical workers who will be laid off in the latest impending round of job cuts. Local convenience store juggernaut Buc-ees (home of the 20 lb. $0.99 bag o' ice) is building a huge new fuel/beer distribution outlet -- just down the road from Dow's Texas Works. Jobs, jobs, jobs! No union dues! Flexible hours! Polo shirts & khakis IN , fire retardant jumpsuits OUT! The new Buc-ees will be on Tx Hwy 332 @ Plantation Dr., across the street from Randall's. Land being cleared now. Trees uprooted. Dirt being pushed around. Wildlife fleeing. Huge project. 28 fuel pumps to be installed. CVS drug store going in, too. According to word on the street.
Saturday, May 08, 2004
The Dukes of Brazoria County?
Hollywood might make a movie based on the TV show The Dukes of Hazard.
It could be a moneymaker or it could flop, like The Alamo.
It's a risky business. A risky BIG business.
Is there a better bet? Heck, yeah, right under our noses.
A reality TV series. A reality TV series right here in Brazoria County, Texas, USA.
The Dukes of Brazoria County would be a top 'o the Nielsen Ratings bell-ringer.
The idea hit us like a sledgehammer last week when a deputy who ran unsuccessfully or sheriff was summarily fired. His apparent crime was complaining the Brazoria County Sheriff's Dept. was run by "a good old boy network."
It's hard to pin down exactly how a good old boy network operates, but
that's what The Dukes of Hazard TV series was all about. Everybody was a good old boy and just had a lot of fun adventures. The theme song, as sung by the late Waylon Jennings, set it up at the beginning of each weekly episode: "Just some good ol' boys, never meanin' no harm ..."
There were lots of car chases and fellows with thick Southern accents who said "dang" and "heck" a lot. Cars regularly soared over various obstacles (rivers, fallen trees, other vehicles, people).
Devotees of the TV show, however, are breaking out in hives over talk concerning changes the moviemakers might make, such as removing the Confederate flag from "General Lee," the orange Dodge Charger that was as important to the show as any of the actors.
Causing further concern is talk that the character of Boss Hawg, portrayed on TV by a fat white guy, would be be portrayed in the movie by an African American.
Fans of the TV series, as far as we can tell, aren't upset that Jessica Simpson could play the comely Miss Daisy character, since Ms. Simpson fills out a pair of cut-off blue jeans quite nicely, but opinion is divided whether Ashton Kutcher is right for the role of Bo or Luke, the fun-loving guys who were always getting into mischief. Kutcher's increasingly public role as a follower of Kabbala, the trendy, new wave Jewish brand of spirituality, might make it tough for fans of the TV series to accept him as a New South redneck who drives real fast on rural dirt roads. Along with the Confederate flag removal and putting an African American actor in the sheriff's role, all this could really hurt the box office receipts since Hazard fans consider tampering with the TV show's traditions utter heresy.
A reality TV show, however, would avoid both all those potential pitfalls.
Just stick a lot of those teeny tiny cameras everywhere and watch what happens in the Brazoria S.O.
The financial benefits would be enormous, both to the department's officers, who are severely underpaid, and to the County of Brazoria, which is always crying it's too po' to pay law enforcement wages that are competitive with happenin' places like Lake Jackson.
There's always interesting stuff going on in the sheriff's department. They deal with a lot of nutballs, like the Angleton fellow who went on a week-long drunk and stole an airplane, only to crash it into some powerlines and, miraculously, walk home and go to bed, like it was all in a day's work. Something like that could be stretched into two or three episodes.
Stuff's going on at the jail all the time, too. The reality TV cameras could show the bothersome Gu'mint inspectors always nosing around, finding stuff that doesn't work and putting it in their reports.
The celebrated shakedown of the out-state-prisoners that put Brazoria County on the map several years ago could be revisited to let America know that no one meant any harm. This could be accomplished via flashback videos and current in-depth interviews with the Emergency Response Team boys who might reminisce about the behind-the-scenes backstory none of us knew at the time.
If things got a tad slow at Sheriff's H.Q., the teeny tiny cameras could be moved down to the courthouse in Angleton, where's there's always high drama and a lot of backstabbing going on. And that's just at the county commissioners meetings!
With Sheriff Joe King going into retirement at the end of the year, what's he got to lose? Nada. What's he got to gain? Everything!
As the real-life reincarnation of Boss Hawg, King could become the nation's darling as the silver-haired Texas Sheriff who wears a straw Stetson at a jaunty angle and still has the boyish figure put on a pair of tight-fitting Wranglers in the morning. He rides a horse, too, just don't go near him with any Silly String. There's another episode right there -- how Angleton outlawed parade-day Silly String after the sheriff's horse threw him during a Silly String attack. And, hey, we almost forgot! He wears cowboy boots too! America loves cowboy boots! And cowboy hats!
In the reality TV series, whenever anything goes wrong, King could just look exasperated, shake his head and yell at his put-upon Chief Deputy, "Dadgummit, Charlie, why'd he do THAT!"
Look what The Apprentice did for the obsequious Trump wannabes, who are now fielding job offers left and right. Even the most obnoxious losers are going to be filthy rich!
The Dukes of Brazoria County is just the ticket to retirement for our celebrated sheriff and the underpaid men and women in uniform who serve under him. It'd be a real economic boost to the county, too. Tourists would flock here, buy our gas, stay in our cheap motels and eat in our fine dining establishments.
If the county really gets it act together, there'd also be lots of souvenirs for fans of the TV show to buy: Caps, T-shirts, posters, drink holders, coffee cups, ash trays, fake badges, coloring books, yo-yos, remote control General Lees with a Stars 'n Bars decal on the hood. Cha-Ching. The possibilities are endless!
If I'm Brazoria County, I'm on the phone ASAP Monday a.m. to CBS, NBC, ABC and FOX, pitching the idea. And if they don't bite, there's always the WB.
Thursday, May 06, 2004
Rendezvous On A Train
A man and a woman, who have never met before, find themselves assigned to the same sleeping room on a transcontinental train.
Though initially embarrassed and uneasy over sharing a room, the two are tired and fall asleep quickly...he in the upper bunk and she in the lower.
At 1:00 AM, he leans over the side and gently wakes the woman saying, "Ma'am, I'm sorry to bother you, but would you be willing to reach into the closet to get me a second blanket? I'm awfully cold."
"I have a better idea," she replies. "Just for tonight, let's pretend that we're married."
"Mmmm, that sounds niiiice," he says.
"Good," she replies. "Get your own damn blanket!"
After a moment of silence, he farted.
Wednesday, May 05, 2004
Banjo says, CHECK THIS OUT -- NOW!
This is the coolest Website I've stumbled across in a long time -- TerraServer.
With a little patience and effort, you can find your house, where you went to high school, your favorite fishin' hole, your favorite golf course, or just about anything else.
Here's an explanation about TerraServer:
The TerraServer-USA Web site is one of the world's largest online databases, providing free public access to a vast data store of maps and aerial photographs of the United States. TerraServer is designed to work with commonly available computer systems and Web browsers over slow speed communications links. The TerraServer name is a play on words, with 'Terra' referring to the 'earth' or 'land' and also to the terabytes of images stored on the site.
Exploring our planet by studying maps and images is a fascinating experience! Not surprisingly, the first place many people visit is their own neighborhood. You also might want to take a look at famous places such as our National Parks or your favorite sports parks. TerraServer is also a valuable resource for researchers who was to study geography, environmental issues or archeological mysteries...there are almost limitless possibilities.
You can easily navigate the enormous amount of information in TerraServer by selecting a location on a map or entering a place name. And now, a new Web service--called TerraServer.NET--enables Web developers to easily integrate TerraServer data into their own applications.
Tuesday, May 04, 2004
Limbaugh opens mouth, inserts foot
(Ed.'s note: from Wonkette.com)
Limbaugh's Rules of Order: We Couldn't Have Put It Better Ourselves
We'd been puzzling over what to say about the news of American soldiers humiliating and torturing Iraqi prisoners. We felt we should say something; after all, there's (simulated) ass-fucking involved. But, you know, torture. Where are the laughs? Then Rush Limbaugh put it all in perspective, after a caller remarked that the "stack [of] naked men" was "like a college fraternity prank."
RUSH: Exactly. Exactly my point! This is no different than what happens at the skull and bones initiation and we're going to ruin people's lives over it and we're going to hamper our military effort, and then we are going to really hammer them because they had a good time. You know, these people are being fired at every day. I'm talking about people having a good time, these people, you ever heard of emotional release? You of heard of need to blow some steam off?
Of course. That's how we like to unwind at the end of a hard day ourselves. Some soft music, a cocktail and some simulated ass-fucking. Oh, I'm sorry: Forcing someone else into simulated ass-fucking. And hey, isn't it nice to see a leader in the conservative movement finally come out in favor of a "don't ask, don't tell" policy in the military?
Heroes & Villains
We watched the memorial service for Pat Tillman yesterday and were left wondering, `what makes a guy like that tick?' We're still pondering that question.
Then, when we read about the abuses of prisoners in Iraq at the hands of American servicemen, in the same prison where Saddam Hussein did much of his dirty business, we concluded that the Pat Tillmans of the U.S. Armed Forces won't be remembered by the world at large, which will, instead, remember the dirty dogs who dishonored their country and their fallen comrades.
Meanwhile, the US Army announced today that we no longer will put hoods on Iraqi prisoners and just use blindfolds. Holy crap, that's terrific. Howsabout not torturing them now?
Saturday, May 01, 2004
F-L-O-G: It's Golf Spelled Backwards in LJ
The enviros doffed their pith helmelts and sheathed their butterfly nets.
The golfers stopped polishing their Big Berthas.
Both sides came together the other day to see what Lake Jackson's version of the 100 Years War hath wrought. Everyone made nice while taking a look-see.
It's a golf course! All green and pretty and manicured like you see on the TV. Right there in the middle of the woods, where migrating birds have been stopping for eons.
From the beginning, we could appreciate the position of both sides. We like golf and the people who play it. It just seems to make them happy. And we like to see people happy.
And we like birds. In fact, as we approach our golden years, we confess we've come to appreciate birds more than golf. We watch them in the backyard. Hummers and such. And this time of year, especially, when The Great Spirit moves them to suddenly fly north, we see birds that we've never noticed before. Fantastic.
Now everyone can watch the birds AND play golf. It makes the shanking of that first tee-shot into a federally protected wetlands much less emotional, though not less expensive.
Of course, the city's new golf course could have been built somewhere else. Of this we are sure. This ain't Manhattan. Hell, this ain't even Pearland. But it's done, so everyone seems of a mind to resume civil conversation. It wasn't always like that.
It's a rather expensive recreational venture the City of LJ has undertaken.
Six-million-plus samoleans, last time we checked. Probably more by now, but you wouldn't know by how much if you relied on the local paper(s). And it might be a money-loser, but so are a lot of other things government does. Even so, those things, for the most part, don't involve hitting small white speres into 18 small holes that have been strategically placed in the ground, and then keeping track of many times the small white sphere must be struck to accomplish that goal. Those other money-losing things involve the more mundane tasks of picking up the garbage and keeping the street lights working and moving the sewage.
Still, man does not live by bread alone. He (and she) must recreate. Or they might go off the deep end. That, or spend way too much time sitting in the garage watching passing traffic.
Aye, if you build it they WILL come.
Will they come in three years? Five years? Ten years?
No to rain on anyone's parade, but nearly three million of the 26 million adult golfers in the U.S. quit each year, says the National Golf Foundation, an industry research group, reports The Wall Street Journal.
" Why?" the Journal asks.
" Health, job and family obligations, and other spare-time attractions are some of the reasons. But underlying those, dropouts say in surveys, is this: The game is too difficult, too time-consuming and too expensive.
" 'It is so difficult that about two-thirds of those who try the game quit because they don't think they will ever be able to play [it] respectably,' says Ron Drapeau, chairman of Callaway Golf Co.
"The good news is that a little more than three million Americans take up the game annually. But that's barely enough to make up for the dropouts: For more than the past decade, the number of golfers has grown an average of less than 1.5% a year."
The Journal continues:
"Worse, those who play are also playing less. World-wide, golf play has declined since 1999. For the third straight year, the total number of games, or rounds, of golf played in the U.S. -- the most important barometer of the industry's health -- fell in 2003. From a high of an estimated 518.4 million rounds in 2000, play declined to 495 million rounds last year, according to the golf foundation."
Of course, back when the LJ golf course plans went into motion, things were different. And we were all a lot younger.
Who could have known?
It may all work out. We hope so.
And if it doesn't, there are other recreational endeavors the city might consider tackling if the golf option doesn't pan out. Jai alai, croquet, badminton, paintball, squash, steeplechase, bocce ball. The list is endless. And there are acres and acres of woods out there.
Wasn't Expecting This, But Here's An Email From The President!
Dear Banjo,
Laura and I want to thank you for being a part of this campaign. We appreciate what you're fixing to do, which is register your family and neighbors, man those phones, put up the signs, and turn out a huge vote.
We're counting on you.
For all Americans, these years in our history will always stand apart. There are quiet times in the life of a nation, when little is expected of leaders, but this is not one of those times. The stakes for America are high and the challenges are difficult.
Great events will turn on this election. And that's why I need your help in this campaign.
Last night, thousands of you hosted and attended Parties for the President in a nationwide show of support for the campaign. Thank you. But there's much more to be done, and I'm counting on the efforts of grassroots supporters, friends like you, to make the difference.
Will you help today by using the form below to forward this message to five of your friends and family encouraging them to join the campaign as volunteers?
I am honored to have you by my side. Thank you for your continued friendship and support. It means a lot to Laura and me.
Sincerely,
(The President's signature!)
P.S. We have a tough campaign ahead of us. Please contribute today by using our secure server at www.GeorgeWBush.com/Contribute.
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