Dependable income in a dire economy

According to The Onion, America's favorite source for the facts about what's going on, shooting hoops is now the most reliable way to make a living.

Now, I know that "The Tournament" starts in just a couple of days, so come Thursday, 32 people will have a chance to make their nut for the year, and I commend them.

But I have a critical holiday to get through tomorrow before I'm ready: 164 years ago tomorrow, the rubber band was patented. So we're going to drive out to Lenny's Bar and Grill and SwapMeet, and have us a couple of beige beers. And some fried potatoes that might have been green on the edges before they were dropped in the grease, to go with a couple of burgers that are red in the middle.

Rainy season in Texas

We've had an inch and a quarter (or so) of much-needed precipitation in the last forty-eight hours, and we have the hint that more may come in the next few days.

Like I said, it's welcome: the stock tanks are filling up, the lawns are threatening to green a bit, and the mosquitoes are promising to lay eggs as soon as it warms up again.

But all the rain and the chill has kept us close to the furnace, so when Alpha suggested we head to Lenny's Bar and Grill and SwapMeet for a libation or two and a hamburger, I had to allow as that wouldn't be an all-bad idea: I bolted for the door and jumped up several times (I didn't jump up and down - I have no idea where that expression comes from, as gravity pulls me down after I jump up).

Anyway.

We got to Lenny's, and Alpha settled onto a stool at the bar; I curled up around my bowl at the door, and Wendy brought us our beers. We settled in to watch the Big 12 basketball tournament, which this year is abounding in upsets, and therefor made for TV.

About twenty minutes later, the hinges squeaked, and a guy walked in with a monkey.

Now this is the same guy that came in a couple weeks ago with (what I assume was) the same monkey and ordered a drink. While he was at the bar chatting and drinking, the monkey entertained himself by running all over the place and getting into everything.

Wasn't too long, and Wendy said to the guy, "Didn't you see what that monkey just did? He got into the fruit tray and ate up half of the fruit!"

"I'm sorry," said the guy. "Yeah, he's crazy and he'll eat about anything. Just put it on my tab and I'll take care of it."

About that time, the counter bell rang and Wendy went and grabbed our burgers for us. She set them down, obviously in more of a hurry than usual, and said to the guy, "Did you see what your monkey did this time? He jumped up on the pool table and swallowed the cue ball!"


"I told you he's crazy and he'll eat anything", the guy said. "Please just put it on my tab."

Not long after that (we hadn't even finished our burgers), the guy finished his drink, settled the tab, and left.

So we're there this evening, sipping and trying to decide whether to order curly fries or onion rings with our burgers, and the same guy comes through the door with that monkey on his shoulder and orders a drink. The monkey again starts getting into everything.

Not two minutes later, Wendy says to the guy, "Did you see that? Your monkey just took a cherry out of the fruit tray, stuck it in his butt, pulled it out and ate it!"

"Yeah", says the guy, "he's still crazy and he'll eat anything, but now he measures first!"

Now who'm I gonna call?

I try to keep it light, here, most of the time. I figured when I started that most folks needed an occasional chuckle more than they needed a diatribe about the state of this or that or the other thing.

So I steal a joke off the inter-tubes, or I cast an old story in a way that I haven't heard it before. I have mixed success.

Especially when I look at it the next morning.

Sober.

And I go on and on and on some more about the marvel that is Lenny's Bar and Grill and SwapMeet.

But the humor corner of the inter-tubes lost a good friend and reliable contributor this last weekend. Some of you know it already from elsewhere: (Lowell) Gene Maudlin went to meet either Big Ernie or the dung beetles last Saturday, not even a week after "Rabbit, Rabbit."

Gene was better known to me and to most all of his 'tubin' buddies as Ol' Hoss, resident and subsequent escapee of the Old Folks' Home and curmudgeonly curator of the blog he called Old Horsetail Snake.

He held court there. And from there he touched the lives of more bloggers than I know or care to imagine. He commented actively with wit and with humor, not on mainstream blogs, but on tiny little out-of-the-way blogs like this one (most of the time, he had better taste, but he did swing by here once in a while).

So.

As of March 7, 2009, no more posts.

The internet will fill up the void soon enough, I suppose (dung beetles abhor a vacuum, and, as far as I know, Big Ernie does, too), but we've lost a quality that won't come back any time soon.

Microwave popcorn

Something has always bothered me about the smell of microwave popcorn: it just smells "off," for some reason. Yeah, there's a distinctly popcorn smell there, but there's something else, too.

So this evening, when I came in from chasing that darned squirrel out of the ash tree into the live oak and up and over the shed roof into the neighbor's cedar tree, I noticed an odor - the odor of microwave popcorn.


And it was the eggs Beta was boiling in a pan of water with just a little vinegar to make 'em easier to peel. Same. Darned. Odor.

It's a good day when I sort out what bothered me about something that should have been so good.

Wanna be a general contrator?

I don't, just because it would interfere with keeping the homestead safe from squirrels and passers-by, but if you have an extra half-a-grand sitting around, and feel the urge to build houses in your spare time from plans you ordered (I know you didn't steal them) off the internet, Texas has a deal for you. No test, no nothin'. Just fill out the application and pony up the cash, and you're set.

Keep in mind, there's some serious competition here: