I Have A Bomb Shelter And You Can't Use It

In Which I Mutilate A Cat

2012-01-26T19:47:00.000-08:00

Hola Amigos, it's been a while since I hollered at ya'...

God I miss Jim Amchower. Go ahead and Google him. He was awesome.

Jesus is their anything worse than the NHL All-Star Game? They've got captains drafting the teams like grade school Dodge Ball. They're on the last two guys, a position I know all too well from my own grade school years . Well who's a high paid attorney now motherfuckers!?!?!?

Oh, right, someone else. Goddamn fate.

Anyway, the NHL All-Star game is a joke, it isn't hockey and I won't watch. I'm not even sure why I'm watching this draft but I'm willing to bet the two Stone IPAs and 2 (3) fingers of 12 year old Jamesons may have something to do with it.

Oh right, the cat.

So anyhoo as all of you, (and by all I mean Eclectic, who apparently still stops by here and yelled at me for not posting anything in like 6 months, so I hope you enjoy this E because you're probably the only one reading this), may know, we have several rescue animals. Including five fish that we've rescued from a pet store, and by 5 I mean like 28, because those things have a half-life of about 6 seconds.

Oh hey, Game of Thrones re-runs on HBO. Hooray for child-rape! At least in the books; in the TV show I think the bride's supposed to be legal. By the way, after watching the first series I ran out and bought the first four books and then read them right through. My advice to you is DO NOT DO THAT. They're excellent, don't get me wrong, but barreling through all four at once is like swallowing 4,000 pages of hate at once. I seriously started to have some foul, foul dreams centered on that shit. But in small doses I'd highly recommend them. Seriously good story-telling.

Oh yeah, the cat.

So my first gift to my then girlfriend, now wife, was a cat. Blaze. Adopted from the Meriden Humane Society. Blaze was with us for about 11 years, including about 5 as an outdoor cat, (declawed, which I won't do again), in which she killed mice, birds, rabbits and I'm pretty sure two hookers. Then, when my father-in-law moved to California and announced that he wouldn't be bringing his cat with him, I adopted Brutus.

On a side-note people when you have a pet it's part of the family. Putting it to sleep because you're moving isn't an option. Don't think I won't remember that when it's time to decide on a nursing home.

So anyway Blaze got hit by a car and died and Brutus got old and we put him to sleep because he couldn't eat or climb stairs, not because we were moving. And we had no cats. This lasted a few years until we started to see mouse shit in the house. My wife decided that we needed a cat. Off to the shelter we go.

At the shelter, (where we got our dog, who's really cool and still has most of her parts), we meet Nutmeg. Nutmeg has been dropped off, riddled with fleas and bearing three kittens, by some shitheel that once passed for a human. We adopt her, based in no small part on the head of the shelter telling us how friendly Nutmeg is.

Well, she lied. Nutmeg is not friendly, she is feral. Although the words sort of sound alike so I guess there could have been some confusion. We find that unless she's outside she's not happy and by not happy I mean "shitting anywhere but her litter-box". So Nutmeg becomes an outdoor cat. And disappears for three days before coming back wounded and needing medical attention. $300 later she's wearing a plastic helmet and is inside for the winter. Spring comes and she's back to shitting under my bed. Back outside for her and all is well. She's actually much friendlier when spending time outside too.

She gets through most of the summer, then disappears again. Now during this time my brother has found a kitten that some asshole threw out of a car, breaking its leg. If you don't know my brother, (and you don't or we'd be friends), he's like a drunken St. Francis; wounded animals flock to the kid and he never says no. I think he has a tab at the vets office, and I know he's got one at the local bar because I've abused the latter on more than one occasion. He names this kitten "Lucky Buster" after some literary character, (I know, who reads books? FAG!!), and takes him, (later to be determined to be a her), to the vets for surgery to get the leg fixed. My wife and daughter, (who you'll remember are now missing a cat), have visited the vets office and fallen in love with Lucky Buster, who I am informed is just the most adorable ball of fluff you'd ever want to see. They agree that we will adopt her once she comes out of surgery.

Naturally she dies during surgery. Lung worms and too much time outside on top of the broken leg. And when I find the fucker who threw her out a window I will crucify them. Oh, and we still get the bill, which I pay, because I've got at least two other animals going in an out of that office.

So now we're out money, have no cat, mice in the house and what are we going to do. Well we're going back to the animal shelter of course. But this time we adopt a kitten and determine that we will raise him as an indoor cat. And we name him Lucky Buster, although lately I've been calling him Handsome Dan, because he just looks like a Handsome Dan, and more importantly because cats don't give a shit what you call them. They're not coming over unless you're holding a tuna steak. And then we drive home and who's sitting at the back door glowering at us? Nutmeg The Great And Terrible. Thank you Stephen King for the latter half of that monikor.

Is this story longer than 'Moby Dick'? I think it might be. I hope you're happy E. thank the flying spaghetti monster that HBO's running porn right now. "Sexy Assassins". This isn't going to end as well for you as you think, fella. But I digress

Nutmeg resumes her outdoor ways and takes up sporadically fighting with Lucky Buster. Who is at first much smaller than her but takes to eating everything in sight and is now bigger, faster and younger than her. And has all of his parts, at least until Monday, but don't tell him that. We're just going for a ride as far as he's concerned.

Nutmeg disappears again this winter, including two of the coldest nights of the year. I basically write her off, but because she's my daughter's cat I launch several expeditions around the area looking for her, even though we heard coyotes within 5o yards of the house on about Night 3, and I'm pretty much just looking for confirmation that Nutmeg isn't coming home.

By the way, if you ever want to impress your wife and/or significant other, charge out on a winter's night in your pajamas to chase off a coyote on the off chance that your cat's in trouble. You won't find the cat but you'll probably get laid. Also the coyotes will run away from an adult. I call that a pro-tip.

Day 12 of missing cat my wife goes outside in the early morning to "watch the first snow", (smoke a cigarette; you know what they say about girls who smoke: marry 'em!), and the next thing I know she's waking me up by thrusting what's left of Nutmeg in my face. Apparently Nutmeg came sprinting across the back yard through the snow. She's got several bad bites and is seriously underweight. But she's alive. Daughter cries with happiness, I go out in the snow and track the footprints, which eventually disappear into some brush, because the snow's already melting because global warming isn't a myth and fuck you if you don't think so.

(poflawa in 3, 2,...oh wait, no one reads this anyway. Never mind)

Anyway, as near as I can tell Nutmeg's been living in a woodchuck hole for 11 days, because there's no possible other shelter near her footprints where she wouldn't have frozen to death. Which makes me thing she also ate the woodchuck, because that cat kills even more than Blaze did. Because Nutmeg got to keep her front claws.

So we're back at the vets, (who by the way found out that I was paying for my brother's original Lucky Buster and were so impressed by that they gave us the money back, thereby allowing us to get the living Lucky Buster's shots for free, with the balance left over that we would soon use on Nutmeg's updated rabies shots), and we clean up Nutmeg and off we go. We take care of Nutmeg's leg wounds and she's doing pretty well.

But her tails starting to smell pretty bad. We go back to the vets. Turns out that something grabbed her tail and broke it in at least two places. No blood is getting through and the tail's dying. She can live, probably, but her tail will rot off slowly. With maggots 'n stuff. And she may die anyway. So we have Nutmeg's tail amputated. And now she's back in the house with a shaved ass, no tail, a startling good view of her genitals, and something of an attitude considering I've spent about $1,000 (1st World Problems) to twice save a stray cat's life.

Fucking felines.

Hope you enjoyed that E.

And Nutmeg, whether she knows it or not, just retired as an outdoor cat.

Truth in Advertising

2011-08-29T09:29:00.000-07:00

I just went on Connecticut Light & Power's web-site and read how they had many options to help me reduce my use of electricity. Which is true, as my use of household electricity has been cut by 100% for the foreseeable future thanks to Hurricane Irene. I'm pretty sure we'll see September before we see power again.

So far our losses are limited to several small trees, the power, and one fish. I suspect the other fish aren't long for this world unless the filter kicks in soon. Maybe if we occasionally stirred the water? I have no idea. I don't expect these figures to directly rise since the weather is now beautiful, but if we don't get some power soon there are going to be some indirect casualties as boredom sets in. Honestly I think people in the pre-Industrial times were so goddamn nasty to each other because there wasn't anything to do once it got dark.

The lesson, as always, is that cable-TV porn solves everything.

Holy Shit, This Thing's Still Up?

2011-08-05T21:05:00.000-07:00

Hi! How have you been? I've just finished three Stone Pale Ales, which have a higher than usual alcohol content. Guess how long it's taken me to type this. I'll give you a hint: this is not the first draft.

Anyway, I hope you're all doing well. I've noticed that no one I used to hang with in blogging world is still at it, at least regularly. I assume that this is due to Facebook. I'm still not on it. I jusy use my wife's account, which is sort of creepy. But I'm lazy. Not lazy enough to date on eHarmony, but pretty damn lazy.

Seriously, I hate those commercials.

My kid hit a grand slam in the state All-Star tournament this year. Pretty much my highlight of the year. Then we got killed in the District championship game. Probably the coaches fault. Did I mention I coached?

Anyway, good to see you again.

I Guess In 5 Billion Years I'll Look Back On The Republican Party As The Least Of Our Problems

2010-12-08T12:27:00.001-08:00

Every day I read the news I become convinced that the US will soon make Greece look like a well-oiled financial machine. Xenu knows that Obama has come up short of my expectations on a dozen different levels, (I'm sure that keeps him up at night), but for fuck's sake people, the Republicans ran on the idea that the deficit was the number one problem facing the country, (which for once I'd have to say they're right about), and the first fucking thing they do is force through tax breaks for people making more than $250,000 a year. Which will add $120 billion to the deficit over the next two years. The. First. Fucking. Thing. They. Did.

And Obama rolled over like my dog looking to get her belly rubbed, then held a press conference and bitched out the Democrats for failing to enthusiastically backing him up on this deal. Oh, the next two years are going to be a fucking treat.

Fortunately, this will eventually happen, and all of this will seem like small potatoes. That's all I need to stop saving for my retirement.

I Guess What I'm Saying Is

2010-09-16T07:03:00.000-07:00

Stay the fuck out of New England leaf-peepers. Some of us have places to go.

With thanks to Medium Large. Who probably don't know that I stole this from them.

Yet.

Congratulations Faggots!!

2010-08-04T19:23:00.000-07:00

We here at the bomb shelter would like to take a moment to emerge from our self-imposed cocoon-o-laziness to congratulate all of the godless homosexuals in California currently celebrating yet another liberal judge overturning the will of the people by finding that Prop 8, a California voter-approved ballot measure barring you queers from getting married, is actually unconstitutional and therefore invalid.

What's that you say? The judge was a Reagan appointee? Well, fuck me in the ass and call me Freddie Mercury!

Actually, please don't. While I do have line drive power to the gaps in both fields, (hey, guess who's been busy with Little League again this year?), that's actually in the literal sense and not in any way metaphorical. I'm strictly in it for the babes, but of course, now that gay people I will never meet have won the right to state recognition of their civil contract of marriage, I guess I'll just have to divorce that broad I married oh these many years ago. Because after all, the fact that two strangers you'll never meet have entered into a civil contract in a jurisdiction you'll never go to should absolutely lessen the integrity of your own vows to a person you presumably love and have created a family with in the civil and possibly religious ceremony of your own choosing.

Back when people used to blog I had a significant number of queer readers. And then there were the gays! Hey-o! See what I did there? Anyway, the gay marriage thing was remarked on a few times. Just in case someone stumbles in here, clears off the cobwebs and reads the title above and thinks "Wow, this guy's a [huge asshole][right-thinking, moral American]", let me be clear: If I have the right to make a conscious choice to limit the number of women I have sex with for the rest of my life to exactly one, (seriously though, she's pretty hot. Thank Xenu she's got questionable taste in men), then as far as I'm concerned, you gay folk have to do the same thin...I mean, have the same right.

To my knowledge, no mainstream gay group is arguing that any religious group has to recognize their godless sodomite but ever-so-fabulous marriages. Nor should they, as that would be a blatant interference of the State with a religious group's tenets. And therefore unconstitutional. And bad. But at the same time, the Constitution says something about everyone being created equal and having the right to life, liberty and only banging one person ever for th...uh, happiness. Hi honey! So far as I know, I'm pretty sure there's nothing in the Constitution that says "except the queers", but feel free to let me know if I missed something.

Look, if you oppose gay marriage, or gays in general, that's your affair. Knock yourself out. Damn them to hell for all eternity, I don't care. The odds are good I'll be down there drinking with 'em anyway if you happen to be right. My bad. But don't kid yourself for a minute that equal rights in any way doesn't mean that gay people get STATE RECOGNITION of their marriage. Your church remains free to not recognize them all they want, and should remain so. But the state, the government, simply can't. It's against the laws this country was based on. You can absolutely make the argument that the founding fathers didn't like queers or had religious beliefs that would preclude gay marriage, or gay activity, or wearing pink polo shirts with the collars popped, (seriously, that's pretty gay), and you might even be right, but that's not what they wrote. Everybody gets equal rights, regardless of who they want to fuck.

I write this knowing full well that this case isn't done. It'll be appealed to the 9th Circuit, which will undoubtedly uphold the decision, (because they're a buncha liberal fagdouches, of course), (also I think the most overturned appellate court in the USofA, although I could be wrong about that), (and could also be wrong in my love of parenthetical phrasing, but fuck off, I'll love as I wish!), and then will go to the Supreme Court, which should result in a very interesting decision. I wouldn't even dare to guess how that would turn out, other than to say that, barring any new vacancies between now and whenever the Court gets the argument, it'll be a 5-4 decision. In my considered Constitutional law opinion, (I took a whole course on Constituional law in law school! And just misspelled "Constitutional"!), if the decision adheres to the Constitution, as written, it'll be gay marriage across the country. And pretty soon, gay marriage will be pretty goddamn boring.

But who knows? On both sides of any issue, liberal v. conservative, right v. left, Scalia v. sanity, the Court has a way of making the Constitution say what it wants. We'll see how it goes. Regardless, I'm a straight white married male and whether or not two gay men or two gay women get to exchange "I-do's" will have no effect on me or my wife. If it has an effect on you, well, I think maybe you ought to take a long look at yourself and why you possibly give a shit.

Marbles...is a game

2010-05-31T18:54:00.000-07:00

RIP Dennis Hopper. I'll be rewatching "Blue Velvet" and sipping a Pabst Blue Ribbon in your honor. Well, to be honest, I'll probably chug the PBR. It's not a sipping a beer. Like Heineken. Fuck that shit neighbor.

It's All About Safety

2010-05-18T06:41:00.000-07:00

I don't post much here these days, (although a lot more than I thought I would when I "retired"), but I am concerned about the health and safety of those still reading. So when I stumble upon a highly educational and stimulating video on CPR, well, I have to pass that along. I swear I could pass an EMT test I've watched it so often

Happy Easter

2010-03-29T09:20:00.000-07:00

From all of us here in the bomb shelter. Even the rabbits.

Question For Anyone Still Reading

2010-03-13T05:48:00.001-08:00

So last night my wife and I went to a charity event that included a silent auction. The event also happened to occur fairly close in time to our 15th anniversary. So we agreed that perhaps we'd splurge a little at the auction if something caught our eye. Nothing really did, but there were a couple of trips that looked amazing, like once in a lifetime things, but probably beyond our means. For fun I bid on one of them. Actually both, but one of them quickly went wild. The other one wound up in my lap for considerably less than half of its posted value. Which was not really what I'd planned.

Long story short, anyone out there familiar with safari trips in South Africa and willing to provide some information? Please?

Thanksgiving At The Limpy Household

2009-11-24T09:56:00.000-08:00

This year we'll be celebrating Thanksgiving at our house, just as we have every year for at least the last 13 or so, although 2-3 of those were in an apartment and not a house, but it's awfully picky, and dare I say rude, of you to have pointed that out.

The morning will start out with me rolling out of bed around 8 am and eating a couple of bananas. Actually, the morning will start out for my wife considerably earlier, as she has to get up and start cooking a delicious meal for 8-9 people, with trimmings, and clean the house to her specifications for a celebration, (you could do surgery in any room in our house on Thanksgiving), and that's not going to happen getting up at 8.

Regardless, I get up around 8. Then I'll wait around for my brother, who will inevitably be late. While waiting I'll offer helpful cooking tips to my wife as she runs around the kitchen, most of which not only would result in burning the turkey but wholly defy the laws of physics. Eventually she will suggest that I get the fuck out of her kitchen, generally at about the same point that my brothers death-trap of a car rolls to a stop against our shed. He'll come shuffling to the door with some excuse about traffic, bad alram clocks or dead hookers and we're off for the highlight of the day.

Every year since 1995 I've run the Manchester Road Race. It's the second largest race in New England, after the Boston Marathon. They expect 10,000+ to run. It's a fairly well-known race in running circles and attracts world class runners. And me. One year I'm pretty sure the winner passed me at the 3.5 mile mark while taking a victory lap.

After staggering to the finish, hopefully in less than 38 minutes, (it's one lap around part of Manchester, clocking in at 4.758 miles. The winner will do it in 21-23 minutes), I will try valiantly not to leave my bananas on the road, then drive home. I will then shower and try to help clean the house. After being told repeatedly that I am not doing it right, I will start drinking. if it's good weather, this will be done outside while playing catch with the children, or making them do yard work.

At some point the football games will start. I will watch the Cowboys game. I may watch the Lions game, but only out of a sense of morbid curiosity. Early in the afternoon we'll eat. Then I will start clearing the table, because fair's fair, and if my wife spends all day cooking, the least, (literally, the least), I can do is clean up. I'll start doing the dishes. This is the only day we use the sink over the dishwasher, as there's just too damn much to cram in the washer. And trust me, Ive tried.

Then there's dessert. After which I will feel sick, but in a good way. I will lie on the couch and gaze vacantly at whatever happens to be on television. If I'm lucky, someone will be running an "A Christmas Story" marathon. If I'm not lucky, Kate will be screeching at Jon about something. Either way, I will lack the energy to reach for the remote.

At some point I will get a second wind and recover enough to chase the kids to bed, grab another beer, (eleventy-first if you're counting), and finsih the dishes. The dog will be let out, the wife carried up to bed and I will sit down to stare at the TV and, as my knees throb, wonder why I keep running that fucking race!?!?

I hope your Thanksgiving goes as well.

Drill Baby, Drill

2009-11-16T11:11:00.000-08:00

Ordinarily, I'm quite the tree-hugger. Hell, the under the right conditions, (soft moonlight, a couple of drinks, just the right elm), I might go so far as to be a tree-fondler. I have no patience for those who would pave over the wilderness just to keep the oil taps flowing for another six months. But there are certain goals for which I would put my environmentalism aside and say that you've just got to break out the drills, cut through the ice, and release that sweet, sweet liquid.

And this is one of them.

Seriously, this sounds like it involves pulling up some floorboards and busting out an axe. Why hasn't this been done on the sly already? I'd love to tour Antarctica, and if I ever get there, and if I ever get to see Shackleton's shacks, (see what I did there?), I can guarantee you there'll be a hole in the floor when I leave.

EDITOR'S NOTE: If you haven't read about Ernest Shackleton, do yourself a favor and look him up. Amazing story. Somewhat odd that Scott gets all the glory, but Shackleton came back alive. With all his men.

What Has Two Thumbs And Just Finished A Bottle Of Jack Daniels?

2009-11-12T19:33:00.000-08:00

This guy!!

Oh, wait, that doesn't work if you're not in the room with me does it?

And for the record there wasn't all that much left in the bottle. Perhaps the equivalent, (I'm sure I spelled that wrong. Screw you for noticing), of two fingers.

I was getting tired of the wholesomeness of the last post. The gap in time was bothering me too. I'd write more, but am too tired. All is well here in Limpyville. I may start writing again, I may not. Sometimes I miss it. Other times I don't. And so it goes.

It is interesting to see the number of others who have stopped. And unlike me, didn't have the common decency to make a last post telling everyone they were quitting. Because I'm just cool like that. And also am apparently quite the liar, since I've put up several posts since retiring lo these many months ago. Although in my defense, most of the new posts sucked.

Anyway, just wanted to stop in and say hi. We'll see how many people still stop in here. Vaya con dios.

So What Would You Do?

2009-06-19T08:42:00.001-07:00

Other than be surprised that there's something new here.

My son likes a girl. Which is a start. We have it on good authority that she likes him back. Which is the problem. Now what does he do? They're 11. Does he ask her out? if so, where do they go? How do they get there? Is it cool to hold hands in the hallways? Should they have lunch together? Am I obligated to let him use the car? And more importantly, what do they do two weeks from now when they've become interested in another person?

Man my head hurts. I'm happy that the little bugger likes a girl who likes him back, Lord knows there's nothing better for the male ego at age 11, (hell, it ain't so bad at age 40), but I don't envy him the whole "trying to figure out what to do next" stage at age 11. Sort of makes me glad I didn't have that problem until I was about 18.

Hey, I had a late growth spurt OK?

Ah yes, the awkward conversations, the "does she or doesn't she" thoughts, the whole trying to figure out what I should do next and does she want me to do that or will she think I'm a hopeless dork if I do that thing. Good times.

So far all I've told him is to ask me any questions he wants about any situtation that comes up and I'll tell him what I would have done at his age. Then I told him that since what I would ahve done at age 11 is drink some chocolate milk and go play Dungeons & Dragons, he should do the exact opposite of whatever I come up with and he should be OK.

Frankly, at age 11 my only advice would be if she likes you and you like her than hang around together and have a good time, but don't take anything too seriously. But I'm pretty sure this is all going to end with someone going emo and developing an unhealthy fascination with holding sharp objects to their forearams.

I just hope it isn't me.

EDITOR'S NOTE: He got the girl. If you've never seen an 11 year old walk around trying to be cool with a shit-eating grin plastered all over his face, you haven't lived.

In Which I Disclose The Meaning Of Life To You

2009-05-13T09:52:00.000-07:00

If I ever write an authobiography, you can be sure of two things. First, the title of this entry will be the title to one of the chapters, if not the entire book, and two, I will lie about the size of my penis.

But that's not what we're here to talk about today. No, I'm dropping in to disclose the meaning of life as I currently understand it. And that meaning is that you should drop whatever you're doing and go see these guys any time they're within a 3 hour drive of you. I saw them late last week. It was, far and away, the best concert I have ever been to. Ever. And keep in mind, I've watched The Suicide Girls take their clothes off while twirling a Hula Hoop. Try to imagine what it would be like if James Brown dropped acid right before going on stage. Or better yet, what would happen if you dropped acid and went to a James Brown concert. You'd probably see an Indian dude prancing around in nothing but a yellow cape, a plastic Darth Vader helmet and a pair of hot pants.

And by the way ladies, this is not a man who spends a great deal of time, (i.e. "any"), doing sit-ups or push-ups. Here's a picture. And I will tell you that depsite a physique that says "I am far more familiar with Kentucky Fried Chicken than I should be", this is the coolest guy in the room. When he's performing, you will want to be him, although later, when you look down at yourself and see your toes, you'll rethink part of that. But goddamn that voice!

The band Khan surrounds himself with is the tightest group I've ever seen. Didn't miss a note while pounding through what I can only call garage-punk-soul at an energy level that bordered on obscene. As did the hot pants outfit, but whatever. The show was in a small club ouside on Boston. There were probably 200-300 people in there. About halfway through the show I decided that Hannah Montana and the Jonas Brothers have to die. I can't take the idea that this band is blowing the roof off of small clubs at $20 a ticket while those little shits are lip-synching their way through sold-out arenas with three figure tickets. Fuck them.

I can't possibly do this show any justice, I can only urge you to see King Khan & The Shrines at your first opportunity. If you like music, you'll love this group. I think I got about three hours of sleep that night and I'd have gone back again the next night if they were playing. And my ears had stopped ringing. Bring ear plugs.

Editor's Note: If you click here, and assuming I haven't fucked this up like I usually do, you'll get to a video of Kong Khan & The Shrines doing "Land of the Freak". Gives you some idea of the live show, although by no means the whole experience. Seriously, check them out if they're ever near you. And throw rocks at The Jonas Brothers. I'm pretty sure that's legal.

Oh Good, Another Milestone

2009-05-01T08:01:00.000-07:00

I turned 40 at about 7:30 this morning. Hence the 1940's pin-up girl to the left. Classy and semi-pornographic! A few days ago someone asked me how I felt about this approaching age. My response, which I seriously doubt is original, was that it beats the hell out of the alternative.

A friend sent me an email today saying that "40 is the new 30" and then going on to say something along the lines of it really must have sucked back in the old days when they felt this bad at age 30. I don't really feel all that bad, but I do confess to a creeping knowledge that I am never going to feel as good as I did when I was 27. Or that night when I turned 30 and my wife took me to a strip bar.

By the way, I showed my wife this little atrocity of a blog, so all three of you, (and that might be generous), who still stop by here, say "hi". Hi honey.

Anyway, I'd say I'd write more here, but I'd be lying. I'll try. I'd really like to finish the 50 states thing someday. Maybe by the time I turn 50. or I could just get a Twitter account and do it all in one day. 24 states in 140 characters.

My co-workers are buying me lunch today. Which is cool. Honestly, though, the only reason I didn't take today off was that they'd kill me if I deprived them of the chance to get ice cream. Of course, I'd do the same if they didn't show up on their birthdays and deprived me of a chance to get ice cream. Seriously, don't get between me and mint chocolate chip ice cream. 40 or not, I will knock you down.

Hope all is well. I'm going to go take a nap and then yell at the neighborhood kids to get off my lawn.

Happy St. Patrick's Day

2009-03-17T11:14:00.001-07:00

This is Kate Mara. Her dad owns the Giants, so I'm assuming she loves football. She clearly does not love wearing a lot of clothing, but does like guns.

I'm not really sure what's coming through her door in this picture, but whatever it is, it doesn't appears she's a fan of it.

I'm not sure what this picture has to do with St. Patrick's Day. The Maras might be Irish. Her eyes could be green. Really, it's a hot chick in her underwear. Do I really need a reason?

For Rhonda, Or, It's BetterTo Be Badgered Than Buggered

2009-02-20T13:18:00.000-08:00

Chapter 22 in the "Let's Face It He's Never Gonna Finish This Stupid Thing" "Know Limpy's States"

Wisconsin is the 30th State, entering the Union on May 29, 1848. This despite having been part of the United States since we defeated the British in the American Revolution, thereby winning the right to drink untaxed tea and to stop speaking English. The name "Wisconsin" is derived from the Algonquin name for the Wisconsin River, which, surprisingly, wasn't 'The Wisconsin River' No, those Indians never gave anything a simple name. If they just called each other solid names like "John" or "Doug" Instead of thinking up things like "Dances With Wolves" perhaps they would have had more time to invent things like gun powder and small pox vaccinations. Which would have been a lot more helpful.
Here's a picture of Jean Nicolet, a French explorer and the first European to wander about Wisconsin. I think this picture makes two things pretty clear. First, Jean seems to have had a pretty high opinion of himself. Second, injuns are afraid of loud noises. Hey guys, both guns are empty now. You can kill him with a sharp stick now. Also, this might be the only time the French won a battle against superior numbers.

Anyway, while sitting around busily not developing vaccines, the Algonquins decided to call their river "Meskousing", which means something like "it lies red" and may refer to how the river looked next to the sandstone cliffs. Pretty, isn't it? Some French guy passed this along to his (apparently illiterate) companions, who somehow changed the spelling to "Ouisconsin" Later, when the English settlers started showing up, much like ants at a picnic, they changed the spelling to Wisconsion, because let's face it, spelling it the French way would've been totally gay.

46% of Wisconsin is covered by forest. 54% is covered with cheese. Wisconsin produces more dairy products than any other state in the United States except California,[17] and leads the nation in cheese production. Wisconsin ranks second behind California in overall production of milk and butter, and it ranks third in per-capita milk production, behind Idaho and Vermont. Again, don't click on the links, I'm cutting and pasting here. The largest city in Wisconsin is Milwaukee, well known as the purveyor of fine ales like Miller, Schlitz, Blatz and Pabst. Take a look at those last three names and tell me that people in Wisconsin don't have a habit of getting so shit-faced that they can only order their next round by uttering non-sensical syllables from their perch on the floor.

There are 5,601,640 people in Wisconsin. Most of them voted for Brett Farve in the Presidential election, only to learn that their votes didn't count, as Frave is a native of Mississippi and therefore Constitutionally barred from running anything more complicated than a bumper car ride at a town carnival.

A little known fact about Wisconsin, (and parts of Michigan, but wait your damn turn Michiganites), is that the same night as Mrs. O'Leary's cow got drunk and kicked over a lantern, thereby burning down most of Chicago and creating the base for most of my current ideas about urban renewal, there was a much more devastating fire in Wisconson. You can follow the link to learn more about it, but since this will ostensibly come out on or about Christmas, (ed. note, yeah, that didn't happen did it?) you may want to wait a day or so. I find that stories of fiery death don't work well with the holidays.

Wisconsin is known as "The Badger State". God only knows why. I guess when you're discovered by the French you do what you can to sound tough. Here's a picture of a badger. Cuddly little thing isn't it?
I can see what you'd want that as your state representative. But then, Connecticut uses the Sperm Whale as its state mammal, so perhaps I should just shut up, eh? Oddly, Wisconsin's state wild animal is the white-tailed deer. Badgers being so tame and all.

Wisconsin's state bird is the robin, which is a) kind of a pussy if you ask me, and b), a total rip-off of Connecticut, which already uses the robin as its state bird. Get your own damn birds you curd-eating weasels!!

The state flower is the wood violet, which is shown here and does not like anything like a dogwood.
Actually, if you ask me it sort of does, but then, I didn't take horticulture in college, I took history, and I probably wouldn't know a wood violet if it walked up and bit me in the ass. I would however, recognize a badger it it were to do the same, so don't get any ideas.

The highest point in Wisconsin is Timms Hill, which towers a mere 1,971 feet above sea level. I will give Wisconson points for honesty, as naming anything under 2,000 feet a "mountain", even if it is the highest spot in your dairy-addled state smacks of false advertising. Wisconsin also has some neat sandstone features called "Dells"
which were created by glaciers, or glacier creating dams, or both, or neither. Look, I'm not a geologist OK? I just think they look cool.

THINGS TO DO IN WISCONSIN: Some people like to make jokes about how all anyone wants to do in Wisconsin is eat cheese and drink beer and get really fat. And since this is front and center on the Wisconsin Tourism's Department web-site, they may be right. You could also take a tour of Black Point Mansion, which was built by a German beer baron. I'm not sure how interesting it would be, but it involves beer and I've always had a soft spot in my heart for Homer Simpson's "Beer Baron" character. Also I suspect that this is a pretty accurate representation of most Green Bay fans, unless TV has lied to me all these years. They do say the camera adds ten pounds.

There's also a "Food & Froth Fest" that starts tomorrow, involving the sampling of Wisconsin's finest food and beer. In other words, it's several hours of cheese, bratwurst and Schlitz. I'll be clearing my schedule. Listen, I may make fun of people who eat and drink too much, but it's done out of jealousy.

MISS WISCONSIN LOOK LIKE THIS:

What? OK, so Brett Farve isn't really Miss Wisconsin, but the way he played for the Jets at the end of the last year, he'd have been better off sporting a gown and tiara. And the cow over there really is named "Miss Wisconsin,
continuing a trend we picked up on in Tennessee. Hopefully that's all we picked up in Tennessee, but you noever know what's in the water there.

Here's real picture of someone purported to be Miss Wisconsin 2008. I say purprtedly both to show off my impressive vocabulary, and because while looking for "Miss Wisconsin 2008" I got numerous different results, including a cow, a Miss Beer Cart Wisconsin group photo, and a Miss Southern Wisconsin 2008. I didn't realize that Wisconsin was such a huge beauty contest state.

I chose this picture becuase I do know several people who hunt in Wisconsin, and it looks like one of them just mistook the pageant winner for a deer. More importantly, you can kind of see her boob.

LIMPY'S CONNECTION TO STATE: I can find it on a map, but that's about it.

HAS LIMPY EVER GOTTEN LAID IN THIS STATE: No.

Up next: Are you kidding? It took me like three months to do this much! Someone tell Rhonda I finally got Wisconsin finished.

Tysgirl Told Me To Post Something

2009-02-13T13:09:00.000-08:00

and I would never refuse a new mother, even though I'm pretty sure this isn't what she had in mind.

Her name's Lucy Pinder. I realize she is wearing green for Valentine's Day, yet I am oddly not offended. And Syd, becuase I know you're looking at this, you'll be flattered to know that I can no longer access your blog from my work computer.

Just for the record, I'm still keeping tabs on all of your sites and occasionally get the urge to write something, but then life gets in the way and I don't.

Happy Valentine's Day.

Holy Crap You Guys, Limpy's Back!!!

2008-12-24T06:22:00.000-08:00

Actually, I'm just dropping in to tell you all to have a Merry Christmas.

Except for the Jews, Muslims, gays, and Unitarians. You're all going to hell anyway.

And So It Goes

2008-10-06T12:19:00.000-07:00

You know what I hate? Blogs that just disappear. Several writers that I really enjoyed just stopped writing and faded out. I'm looking at you Nonny. Or actually, I'm not, because you're not there anymore. And Sugar Smacks, who I still link to if for no other reason than I'm a sucker for Fruit Loops. Regardless, I just always thought that if you were going to end your blog, just say so. Let people know. Say thanks for the memories, pax vobiscum, whatever, and handle it gracefully.

Hey kids, guess what?

I'm done. This is the last entry in the Bomb Shelter. I have had an incredible amount of fun with it over the last couple of years. I started it on kind of a whim, after someone turned me on to the hilarious "I'm stuck in rehab with Pat O'Brien" blog, which is still probably the funniest damn thing I've ever read. I followed some of the comments around and discovered it was kind of fun. I decided to start my own and see what happened. What happened was that I had a great time. I met a lot of really cool people. Although I've never met any of you in real life, (and you'd probably call the cops if I did), I regard many of you as friends. And some of you as people to cross the street to avoid. When you weren't busy trying to destroy America with gay marriage, or getting knocked up, or drinking Guinness and taking pictures of your stripper neighbors, or generally fucking around in Mississippi, or any of a 1,000 other things, you were making me laugh. I hope in some small way I returned the favor.

The truth is I don't have the time to make sure the writing here is up to my standards. And those are already pretty fucking low. I have a job that requires me to work full-time now, and the kids, as they get bigger, don't require any less involvement. Nor would I ever want them to. So rather than just have this site sit here with no new entries and no explanations, (especially when the last post says "Nigger"in the title! Good thinking, Limpy), I am taking my bows, picking up the rotten fruit and vegetables, and exiting stage right.

Some of you have my email. If any of you want it, just drop your address in the comments section. I'll get back to you.

Farewell.

Nigger X200

2008-09-24T10:36:00.000-07:00

Pretend I just wrote the word "nigger" 200 times. And then did it a few more times. Great. Feeling good? The word kind of loses its effect after about repetition 116, but that's just me. Since I'm a white guy closing in fast on 40 I'm probably missing something. Kind of like having a point to this. Oh, wait, here it is.

Today here was another newspaper story about "Huckleberry Finn" being banned in one of our local schools. Apparently one parent complained the book features extensive use of the word "nigger", so the school authorities did what they usually do and yanked the book off the shelves. Now they're going to put the book back on the curriculum, but only after 11 teachers are trained specifically to teach the book.

What

The

Fuck?

"Huck Finn", in my opinion, is on the short list for "Best Book Ever". Does it use horribly racist language? You betcha. Does the protagonist start out as an ill-informed young lad with racisit view points only to have his ass saved time and again by an black slave, and therefore learsn that his many racist assumptions were wrong? Why yes, yes he does? Would such a lesson possibly be benefical to today's yout's? Gee, I dunno. Am I doing that annoying "question-and-answer" sing-songy thing again? Yes. Should I stop immediately? Probably.

Look, I'm against burning books, period. Except for maybe anything by Dean Koontz and "The Bridges of Madison County." Those I can sort of get behind starting a fire with.

Seriously Koontz, just stop. You've made a fortune. And while stranded at an ex-girlfriend's family's beach house I read several of your works. They make me weep that trees died. Cut it out. Get a hobby that doesn't involve writing. We'll all be better off.

"The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn", however, is a classic. It should be taught in every high school, no ifs ands or buts about it. There's a point to the use of the word "nigger", and that is that people in Twain's time, (and let's not kid ourselves about our time either), talked like that. And as the book makes bludgeoningly obvious, they were WRONG to do so. I imagine reading that word is painful to some people, but guess what? Life isn't easy. Words are hard. It's the people who can rise above those words and by their actions disprove them that are worth knowing.

Also, the parts in "Huck Finn" that satirize mob justice and and the southern honor system that resulted in bloody family feuds are simply classic writing. On their own they would be required reading.

So cut the crap with the book banning. Read the book, discuss the lessons and we'll all be better for it.

Then we can turn out attention to Ethan Fucking Frome. Seriously, suicide by sled? You couldn't find a blunderbuss?

Fuck Everything, I'm Voting For Gina Gershon

2008-09-13T10:17:00.000-07:00

This should explain why. Thanks to Syd for the lead.

Please, please, please let her pick Jennifer Tilly as her running mate.

/has unhealthy fascination with "Bound".

//well, not really a "fascination, so much as it is an obsession.

///fine, I'm just a fucking pervert OK? You happy now?

Sarah Palin Did What Now?

2008-09-08T13:21:00.000-07:00

Recovering Straight Girl, in her most recent post that wasn't about destroying America through gay marriage, asked what were you going to do to help push Obama into the White House, thereby destroying America by putting a community organizer in the Oval Office.

Well, since I'm a complete simpleton, and very self-involved, I took this to be a direct question to me. And since, as a community organizer, (i.e., I'm doing Little League again and we just beat some team 24-4 but it was OK because their coach called it a "learning experience" as we begged him to cut it short), sSo to answer this question, I am going to spread unfounded rumors about Sarah Palin, America's newest sweetheart, around my corner of the Timmy-net.

If your kids don't watch "The Fairly Oddparents" you didn't get that.

Apparently, the National Enquirer is going to run a story in which unnamed sources, described only as "an enemy", will say that Sarah strayed from her marriage and had an affair with her husband's business partner. Do I know if this is true? Nope. Haven't got a clue. Is the McCain campaig denying this? You bet your ass! In fact, they've gone so far as to say that they will "consider" legal action as a result of these vicious, unfounded rumors. Of course, if someone were to accuse me of marital infidelity I wouldn't "consider" anything, I'd sue your fucking ass off. Unless there was something to it. Then I might "consider" my options, and I might "consider" the ramifications of suing someone and opening myself up to the legal discovery process and I might instead "consider" just pointing out that the Enquirer is a rag that uses unnamed and paid sources, and then I'd "consider" that they were spot on about John Edwards and then I'd "consider" shutting up. But that's just me.

Now, do I particularly care if Sarah Palin had an affair? Good heavens no. Are you as tired of this question and answer format as I am? More than likely. Did I steal it from 'Doonesbury'? Not intentionally, but I did just recall reading a similar sounding series in said strip, so I thought I'd best cite it.

No, unless politicians are given to axe-murdering hobos, what they do in their spare time really doesn't interest me. Wear women's clothing while leading the FBI? Go ahead Mr. Hoover, and might I just say you look lovely in that particular shade of green. Feel like a blow job from an intern above the legal age of consent? Well, if you feel like risking the wrath of your wife, far be it from me to advise against that Mr. President. Like anonymous gay sex in airport bathrooms? Well far be it from me Mr. Senator...wait, really, the bathroom? Fucking freak.

The point being that there are many, many, (repeat many about 659 times here and you get the idea), reasons to vote against someone like Sarah Palin. Like her idea that Creationism should be taught on equal footing in science classrooms. Like her abstinence only sex education position, which flies in the face of reality yet does provide for delicious, delicious irony. Like her favorable views of library censorship as a test of loyalty. Or the fact that she increased the debt load of her town to the tune of $22 million, $15 million of which went for a sports complex. Stuff like that. But will anyone pay attention to that? No, because those are "issues". Those are things that matter. Those are real, day-to-day decisions that will have an effect on our lives. Sarah Palin's positions in these regards will affect,(and they will because I'll lay you good odds she finishes McCain's term), what your children learn in school, (God created the Earth and everything else in 7 days and evolution means you go to hell), or don't learn in school, (a condom, properly used, is much better birth control protection than pulling out and hoping for the best. Levi.). What you can read or see at your local, public, library. How much you'll pay in taxes. Real life. The stuff that matters.

But does anyone pay attention to that stuff. Maybe, but not enough. Because if they did I wouldn't be writing this stuff. Sarah Palin would be run back to Alaska on a rail. McCain might not have reversed every position he's taken over the last 22 years in the Senate to try to be President. Well, maybe not everything, just little things like tax cuts, immigration and offshore drilling. No, instead people pay attention to things like mistakes her 17 year old daughter made, and now has to live out publicly. Or how funny it is to bash community organizers.

Oh, and by the way, as someone who busts his ass to make sure kids like yours have some fun and learn to play baseball, FUCK YOU!!!!!

No, far be it from any of the voting public to think about the issues. So for now I'll have to be satisfied, or at least hope, that an unfounded rumor in a "newspaper" I usually rely on to report on Jessica Simpsons boobs, might trash this candidate from hell.

And that's just sad.

NOTE: Earl advises me that the links were screwed up. Undoubtedly my fault. Rather than take the time to fix them I'll just say that if you want to check the links, just do what I did and google "Sarah Palin" and than add "affair", "creationism", "censorship" etc and you'll get a whole list to choose from. Enjoy.

Who's Sleeping Worse Than Me?

2008-09-04T08:08:00.000-07:00

This guy.

Meet Levi Johnston. Looks like a nice kid doesn't he? Solid citizens those hockey players. Real team guys. Know how to work as a unit. How to come through under pressure. How to put the puck on net. And, if those clumsy metaphors weren't enough to get through to you, how to knock up the Republican vice-presidential candidate's 17 year old daughter. If only the girl hadn't pulled the goalie. Oh wait, her mom is against sex education unless it's abstinence only. How's that working out for you Mom? Here's a tip. If you're raising teenagers in a state where it's dark half the year, they're gonna fuck, (assuming they don't get eaten by vampires), they should probably know how not to get pregnant while doing it.

Anyway, the end result is that Levi got his ass shanghai'd onto a plane to St. Paul, where he got to put on a suit, (I'm presuming he put on a suit; I haven't watched either convention. As far as I' concerened, if by this time you still need additional information as to whether or not you want 2.5 more years of what we've had the last 8 years, you need to get out more), and appear in front of the Republican National Convention with his brand new finacee' to be, the daughter of not only the candidate for VP, but the governor of his home state.

Seriously pal, man-to man. You're a high school hockey player in Alaska. I'm guessing you're up to your ears in the kind of sex that I could only dream about, (and frequently did, much to the local laundromats chagrin), when I was running cross-country in high-school. Of all the girls to get big with child, you choose the governor's daughter!? What the fuck? You're done now pal. You just guaranteed that your next few years, (because let's face it, the over-under on a shotgun wedding for politcal purposes is about 3 years), are going to be MISERABLE. I know that what's-her-name's mom isn't big on the whole contraceptive angle, because Xenu forbid someone fuck for fun, (or to fall asleep. Better than Ambien!), but that doesn't excuse you from not putting on a rubber.

So enjoy the next few months buddy. Enjoy those awkward "family" photos with your future mother-in-law smiling through clenched teeth as she puts an arm around the guy who knocked up her daughter jjst before the biggest moment of her poltical life. Enjoy those a-bit-too-firm handshakes with your future father-in-law, who, if his wife wasn't running for national office, would probably be using your entrails to bait a trap-line somewhere in the Alaskan woods. And enjoy being a father at 18. Because let me tell you, you stupid no-condom wearing motherfucker, as much joy as I take in my two kids, I was in my late 20's when I started having children. And you have no fucking idea what you're in for.

My diatribe against dumbass there aside, I'd prefer it if these two kids were left to work out their situation on their own, rather than drag-assed in front of the media as props. She's 17 and knocked up. He's (I don't know.) and just learned his girlfriend's pregnant and he's going to marry her or else. You're telling me they're both sleeping well. Hell, I expect they're shitting glass. Christ I was a basket case when I learned my wife was pregnant and I was married for 3 years at that point. Yes, they made a mistake, a pretty avoidable if they'd taken two minutes to unroll a rubber, (sorry, but "abstinence-only" sex-education is like "gas-pedal only driver's education. Sure, you'll know how to get going, but unless you know how to stop, there's going to be an accident. Feel free to disagree all you want.) (also feel free to criticize me for that awful analogy), but before they're forced into life-altering decisions like marriage, children,or going to the Republican Convention give them a few minutes.

Just not alone.

Insomnia Sucks

2008-09-03T10:08:00.000-07:00

I've had insomnia for about the last three weeks. I have no idea why. It just started one night when I couldn't get to sleep until about 2 am. I went to be early the next night, and was just tickled shitless to see 4:18 am roll around until I fell asleep. The next night was more of the same, although for some reason that Friday and Saturday I fell right to asleep. I was just giddy with excitement as I went to bed that Sunday night, only to again see 2 am before stealing some Ambien from my wife and knocking myself out.

Over the next few days it was more of the same, with me using some Lunesta samples to eventually fall asleep, having my doctor tell me to use melatonin, trying melatonin with excellent results the first night, (like falling asleep within five minutes excellent), and then, as near as I can tell, no effect whatsoever ever since. Although I still take it every night because I spent $6 on the bottle and wouldn't want to waste it.

I'd been using Ambien samples as a last resort, and it always worked. Last night I took two and still was up until 4. Still that was better than Friday night, when I took nothing to see what would happen and finally fell asleep after 6 am Saturday morning. I've got another call to my doctor this afternoon to see if I can get a prescription for heroin. Needless to say, I've been in a pretty shitty mood lately. I'd rather not get used to getting by on 3 hours of sleep a night, and I really don't like taking prescription drugs if I don't have to. Oddly, I'm OK with illegal drugs.

So if anyone's got any useful advice about beating insomnia, let me know. And don't say "drink five beers and stay up late playing cards" because I already tried that and it didn't work.

Hopefully I'll start getting some more sleep and feel more like writing the usual mediocre stuff you've come to know and love. Until then, I'll be the one watching "World's Strongest Man" reruns on ESPN Classic at 3 am.

Christ I Hope I Didn't Get Anything Wrong On This One: Tennessee

2008-08-19T10:57:00.000-07:00

Chapter 21 in the let's-just-get-this-over-with-and-then-pretend-it-never-happened, (sort of like that night I lost my virginity), "Know Limpy's States"

Tennssee is the 16th state, entering the Union on June 1, 1796. Do you know what esle happened on June 1, 1796. Damn, neither do I. I was hoping you could tell me. Unlike those traitorous bastards in South Carolina, Tenessee was the last state to leave the Union. During the Civil War several fascinating battles took place, one of which, the Battle of Shiloh, was one of the turning points of the war. As you'll discover if you click that pretty blue link there, (of course, this is Wikipedia and could be all bullshit, but it's not like they say the Confederates won, so I say "close enough"), the Confederates had a chance to annihilate Grant's army but dropped the ball, allowing the Union forces to be reinforced and then counterattack the next day, leading to a crucial Confederate defeat.

At this point I'd just like to say I feel like the old lecturing history professor in "The Holy Grail", blathering on about Arthur's defeat at the hands of the French, right before a knight gallpos up and cuts his throat.

Nonetheless, as a history geek, I've always been fascinated by that battle because it's probably the first real beat down, (that's a historical term) , that the Confederates took, (but not the last you uppity bitches!), and also because it's the emergence of Grant as the eventual commander of the Union forces. Actually, after the battle the initial reaction was to have Grant fired, with his superiors arguing that he should have retreated when attacked by superior forces with the element of surprise. Legend has it that the superior, a Gen. Halleck, argued all this to President Lincoln, and then, finishing up, spitefully said, "and the man's a drunk" To which Lincoln is rumored to have replied "Well, find out what he drinks and send a barrel of it to every general in my army" Take that Halleck!

Tennesse is tied with Missouri for bordering the most states. : Kentucky and Virginia to the north; North Carolina to the east; Georgia, Alabama and Mississippi on the south; Arkansas and Missouri on the Mississippi River to the west. Don't waste time clickling on those links; I just cut and pasted from the Wikipedia article becuase I'm lazy. And remember, it's not plagiarizing if you admit it. In a somewhat interesting note, Georgia is apparently pushing to "annex" some of Tennesee, arguing that someone fucked up the surveying 200 years ago, and they should actually get another mile north, conveniently giving them access to the Tenessee River and perhaps alleviating their complete mismanagement of development in Atlanta, which has no water.

Tennesse was apparently amost named "Franklin", which would've been easier to spell, after part of western North Carolina broke away in a short-lived attmept to form their own state, which they would have called "Franklin". But, like so many other ventures involving mountain folk in Appalachia, that venture burned down in failure. So they tried another state, and that one burned down, fell over and sank into the swamp. But the third one stayed put, and that's how Tenessee came to be. Or I may be confusing it with a Monty Python routine.

Tenessee is called the "Volunteer State" apparently because of the crucial role volunteer fighters played in the War of 1812, especially during the Battle of New Orleans. Although I hardly think that's a big deal; getting a citizen of Tennesee to shoot at something is like getting a fat kid to eat ice cream. It's gonna happen one way or the other.

Tenessee is well known for the Depression era Tennssee Valley Authority program, in which the federal government gave people jobs building dams all over the Tennsse Valley area, (hence the catchy name), which then produced electricity for rural folk, who promptly freaked out and tried to smash all the new "demon-lights" before they lost their souls. Perhaps in the next Great Depression, (coming sooner than you'd like to think!), the government can get a TVA program for indoor toilets.

There are 6,156,719 people in Tennesseee, almost all of whom are now used to 'lectricity. One of them is a smart-ass redhead who even now is combing through this entry for inaccuracies. Of which, believe me, I'm sure there's about 9011.

The state flower is the purple iris. I don't believe we've come across this one before, so congratulations to Tennesee for some originality. On the other hand, the state bird is the mockingbird, and I believe Arkansas had first dibs on that one. Anyway, here's a picture: No, look up stupid.

The highest point in Tenessee is the summit of Clingman's Dome, at 6,643 ft above sea level and fully wheelchair accessible. Or maybe not. I'm just curious is someone will try it. Let me know how it works. Actually, proving that I can in fact do some research when the spirit moves me, I looked up Clingman's Dome and it appears that it pretty much is wheel-chair accessible, what with the road to the top and the observation tower and the parking lots and the damn-near-everything-but-wilderness going on. Also it's the highest point on the Appalachian Trail, except for whatever portion of the trail Phollower happens to be standing on at any given time.

IF YOU'RE IN TENNESSEE YOU SHOULD: well, for Christ's sake, don't go here, (shit, now the margins are screwed up. Think "there" and look here>>)
It's a total cliche', the man's dead and he's not coming back. Ever.

For the temporally displaced, you could go to Dollywood's BBQ festival, which the offical Tennesee tourism site says wil occur from 9/5/08-8/28/05. No word on whether you lose weight as the festival winds its way backwards from conclusion to start. Personally I'd probably spend most of my time drinking it up on Beale St., (and if I need to tell you where Beale St. is, you suck) (oh, OK, it's in Memphis. Now please turn down the Lawrence Welk soundtrack and try to pay more attention), and checking out the music. Because that's just how I roll. Sometimes literally after staying out to late.

I do have to say that Tennesseee has one of the better tourism sites. They'll give you directions, tell you what else is in the area and hook you up with a place to stay. Although why "Tysgirl's couch" is on there is beyond me.

MISS TENNESSE LOOKS LIKE THIS:
Well, she does when she's a prize-winning heifer at the statecounty fair. I'm just surprised there's snow in the picture. Maybe they took it on top of Clingman's Dome. But no shit, her name's really "Miss Tennesee"

No, actually, Miss Tennssee looks like this:>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

And it gets even better when she gets her crown, and fake hug,from last year's winner, who has conveniently forgotten to wear a bra and has remembered to wear a dress with handy side access!

You say 'Tennessee", I say "Hooray for side-boobs!"

Actually, I say that pretty much no matter what you say. I think I may need help.

LIMPY'S CONNECTION TO STATE: A good friend of mine hails from godforsaken holler in the state. He likes guns a lot. Other than it being a state occupied by a top-quality blogger, I have no connection. EDITOR'S NOTE: Earl points out that I have neglected to mention Jack Daniel's in this post. While I've probably neglected to mention many other things as well, I should have mentioned Jack as part of my connection to the state, as a glass of JD, neat, is one of the finer things in life. So much better than a cup of sterno. Don't judge me.

HAS LIMPY EVER GOTTEN LAID IN THIS STATE: No, although I once hooked a friend of mine up with a girl to drive cross-country with, and he kicked her out in Memphis. He didn't get laid either.*

Next up, it's, uh, hmmm. well, the book I'm using to get the order of these states has been misplaced. I think it's West Virginia though, so get ready for a whole bunch of unfortunate cousin-fucking jokes. Notice I said "unfortunate", not "unwarranted."

*He actually kicked her out for being an unbridled lunatic, rather than not putting out.

Oh Right, I Have A Blog

2008-08-12T11:13:00.000-07:00

No posts for 12 days. I think that's a record since I started this little horror show way back when. Of course, in those days I was working for a firm that didn't have much to do, so I could afford to jack around all day on the computer and the internet and the web and those other places John McCain can't find, and still get my work done. Now I can't really do that, and since this blog is still unknown to those I know in the real world, I don't do it from home all that often.

In short, I think that thiongs are going to slow down around here. I could be wrong; I've thought that beofre and then sudden bursts of creativity start flowing. Fine, it happened once OK? Happy now?

Anyway, last week my mother took the kids for a week, so it was adults only at Chez Limpy. Suffice it to say I wasn't going to be doing much writing then. Not when there's that much housecleaning to do! And all the sex. Some of it even with a partner. Don't tell me I'm not a wild man.

This week I've been getting hooked on the Olympics. I try to watch the weird sports like team handball and shit like that. Last night I found myself watching the US men's gymnastics team, more than likely because I'm a huge homosexual, but also becuase they were unexpectedly going for the gold. Then two of them basically fell off the pommel horse, (which sounds dirty but really isn't), and they got a bronze. Which menas they came in third. So they're parading in front of the camera and saying dumb shit like "That's how we roll!" Listen, if you come in third, don't say "that's how we roll" You lost. Twice. Yes, it was a great effort, and yes, no one thought you could do it, but two teams beat you. Have some fucking class.

Of course, I say this knowing that if my gymnastic routine were to be announced on TV it would go like this "Well, Jim, I think where Limpy's routine went wrong was when he jumped up and grabbed the rings, immediately dislocating both shoulders and causing him to fall screaming to the ground, where he shattered his ankle. After that he was pretty much finsihed, but the sobbing and thumb-sucking really had to hurt his artistic score as well."

I'm also trying to read "Guns, Germs & Steel", which purports to explain how the world developed the way it has and why some cultures, (i.e., whitey), has all the power and why other cultures, (i.e., everyone else) does not. Apparently it has something to do with the development of food and handwriting and the like, but I'm not really sure, because it is so fucking boring. I highly recommend not reading it yourself. Frankly, I've always just thought the explanation was that, for better or for worse, that northern Europeans just happen to be really good at killing other people, and sort of enthusiastic about it as well. Especialy if shiny baubles are involved. Or oil.

And this weekend, on the cable TV, my wife and I watched what might have been the worst movie ever made, and is certainly the worst I've ever seen, Shoot 'Em Up. And I say that even though it has Paul Giamatti and Clive Owen in the cast, and they're usually excellent. And of course, it also has Monica Bellucci, in it, who's scalding hot and who I would fuck like you read about, so long as what you read about included the phrase, "prematurely ejaculated as soon as Monica took off her top, then spent the evening sobbing in shame."

And the movie still sucks. There is a good sex scene involving Monica about halfway through that makes up for a lot. But other than that, just skip the damn thing.

OK, that's it for now. I'll get to Tennessee at some point. You've been warned.

South Carolina: Ah Do Declare, Ah Believe Ah've Got The Vapors

2008-07-31T10:39:00.000-07:00

Chapter 20 in the newly revived "Know Limpy's States"

South Carolina is the 8th state, ratifying the Constitution on May 23, 1788. If only the country had stayed with the original government document, the Articles of Confederation, South Carolina would have been the first state, and then be as famous as, well, I guess they'd be as famous as Delaware. Of course, if the US had stayed with the good old AOC, we'd be as well governed as Mexico, and these days Canada would be building a great big old fence to keep American migrants from taking jobs from Canadiens.

And Labatt's can only emply so many people at once, eh?

South Carolina was also the first state to leave the Union, seceding on December 20, 1860. Not satisfied with just ripping up pieces of paper, South Carolina then started the shooting portion of the Civil War as well, serranding the Union troops of Fort Sumter with a lovely cannonade on April 12, 1861.

South Carolina is known as "The Palmetto State", and for once I actually know the reason why without looking it up. Give it up for me! Back in olden times, when the United States was but a tiny cog in the British Empire, there was some ugliness about taxes, and representation or lack thereof, and why you shouldn't throw someone else's tea in Boston Harbor while dressed up as Indians. The disagreement got heated to the point that shots were exchanged in various places within the colonies, including South Carolina. The British, who weren't all that great on dry land but who could shoot the shit out of you from the water, tried invading Charleston and shelled the bejesus out of the forts in the harbor. However, said forts weren't made out of the hardwoods, (-snicker- "hardwood"), but instead out of the spongy palmetto wood native to the area. As a result, the wood just absorbed the cannon shot, rather than shattering all over the place and giving the defenders some nasty splinters. To this day South Carolina has a palmetto palm on its flag.

According to Wikipedia, the first settlers were English from Barbados. Clearly this was before air conditioning, as that's pretty much the only reason I can think of to leave Barbados for South Carolina. Where I've never been and don't know what I'm talking about. Also according the same questionable article the largest group of immigrants were African slaves. Now, as I understand the concept of immigration it involves a willing move to a different country to start a new life. It does not mean getting yanked out of your peaceful village, stuffed in a ship's hold for a voyage straight out of Dante and then dropped off in a strange country for a new life full of involuntary servitude.

South Carolina did encourage Jewish immigrants, since they were seen as reliable citizens. Must have been a nice change of pace for the Jews. Up until 1830 South Carolina had the highest percentage of Jewish citizens in the country, but then someone discovered Miami.

South Carolina has had 7 Constitutions since it started writing them back in 1776. An altogether boring fact except that South Carolina is the only state that lists every single permissible reason to get a divorce. See S.C. Const. art. XVII, Section 3. Which is a legal way of saying "look it up yourself; I'm not doing all the work here" The legislature is prohibited from creating new reasons. Some day I need to look that up to see if "The bitch keeps burning the toast" is in there.

There are 4,321,249 people in South Carolina. All of them have a better than average chance of dying from a stroke. If it'd not clear, that link takes you to some boring ass government type paper which purportedly supports the contention that South Carolina has the highest rate of stroke deaths in the country. Somehow, that's not part of the state motto.

The state flower is the yellow jessamine, also known as the Carolina jessamine. This is a picture of what they look like. If this is an error and in fact not a picture of a yellow jessamine, and you feel compelled to point this out, fuck off. What's that? You're a horticulturist and simply can't live with the knowledge that some idiot with a blog that makes things up about states has posted the wrong picture of a plant? Oh, well, in that case, FUCK OFF!!!

We're not revisiting that whole dogwood fiasco again. The state bird is the Carolina wren. I've actually seen one of these things up close, at Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary. That's in Florida. The bird didn't seem all that upset at not being in South Carolina.

The highest point in South Carolina is Sassafrass Mountain, part of the Blue Ridge Mountains in the northwest portion of the state, and standing 3,560 feet high. Also, Sassafrass Mountain is the clubhouse leader so far for "gayest name for a mountain" among the 20 states. Other than homosexual names for mountains, South Carolina does have some neat geographic features such as Carolina Bays, which may have been created by meteor showers, and also the longest blackwater river in the US, the Edisto River. I have no idea if these rivers are given to flying into a rage and shooting civilians.

IF YOU'RE IN SOUTH CAROLINA YOU SHOULD: Golf. It's like mecca for golfers. When I was in college four of my friends were huge golfing fanatics. For spring break they would go to South Carolina to play for a week straight. None of them ever got laid. I'm not sure if there's a connection there. Another friend of mine told me that there was sign at the airport saying "We Love Our Cocks", so if you're a compulsive masturbator, apparnetly this is the state for you. Or they could be talking about their fervent support for their state university.

That would be the gamecocks.

You could also attend a peanut festival, which sounds like a rockin' good time, or attend Brew at the Zoo, which combines the best of drinking alcohol and taunting vicous animals penned up in a cage. Go get 'im big boy!

I'm told Charleston is a beautiful city and well worth checking out for the Old South architecture. Or just chase ghosts through the city. What harm could come from chasing things in white sheets through the south? Frankly, that kind of activity should be encouraged.

It looks a little off-kilter to me, but then, I've been drinking and this could be a sketch rather than a photo. Personally I've never forgiven the city for those wretched Charelston Chew candy bar. Christ those things were awful.

MISS SOUTH CAROLINA LOOKS LIKE THIS: I don't even care what her body looks like. Look at those eyes! What? Airbrushing? Pshaw I say. Next you'll tell me those stories in Penthouse are made up.

Of course, sometimes Miss South Carolina is asked to expound on topics like America's lack of geographic knowledge, and then she looks a little like this , which is to say, a stammering idiot.

LIMPY'S CONNECTION TO THE STATE: I know some people who live there. Other than that, none whatsoever.

HAS LIMPY EVER GOTTEN LAID IN THIS STATE: No.

Up next, it's Tennessee, home of whiskey, slightly dented houseboats and faisty redheads who will tell me that everything I write about the state is wrong, wrong, wrong!

Here's Your Fucking Dogwood

2008-07-28T07:22:00.000-07:00

North Carolina: Fuck Duke!

2008-07-22T10:42:00.000-07:00

Chapter 19 in the you-hoped-I'd-forgotten-about-it-by-now "Know Limpy's States"

North Carolina is the 12th state to enter the Union, ratifying the Constitution on November 21, 1789. The state nickname "The Tar Heel State" is apparently derived from the Civil War, when Stonewall Jackson observed North Carolina soldiers staying in their positions despite taking heavy fire, as though their heels were stuck in tar. Clearly Jackson was impressed by the bravery of the North Carolina soldiery. He was no doubt later less impressed by their brains, as they accidentally shot him, resulting in his subsequent death due to infection, after the Battle of Chancellorsville.

During the Civil War, North Carolina took the first Confederate casualty, (oddly enough a guy named "Henry" and not, as I would have guessed, something like Bufort T. Bumfucknoteeth), during the historic, (to anyone who was actually there) Battle of Big Bethel; got the farthest during Pickett's Charge during the Battle of Gettysburg; got the farthest during the Battle of Chickamauga; and fired the final shots of the Civil War at Appomattox Court House. Somewhat unbeleivably, they managed to fire these last shots without killing Gen. Lee, allowing him to live to a ripe old age and eventually turn into a bright orange car.

Although humans have lived in North Carolina for thousands of years, the first Europeans to explore the area were the Spanish. Apparently they were looking for another route to protect their silver transports from, you guessed it, Mexico. As the article says, putting it mildly, "the Spanish did not realize the distances involved." Fortunately for the chicken processing industry in present day North Carolina, Mexicans have since figured out ways to get to Carolina much quicker.

After the Spanish figured out that legging it from Mexico to North Carolina wasn't the most efficient way to transport anything, the next Europeans to stumble into the area were the English. They established a colony at Roanoke, which later disappeared, leading to one of the "great mysteries" in American history. Personally, to me it's about as much of a mystery as what happened to Amelia Earhart. Her plane ran out of gas and she's in the Pacific food chain. The folks on Roanoke pissed off the local Indians and got swatted like a bunch of pesky fleas.

The Aztecs could have learned something from them.

North carolina is the birthplace of Pepsi-Cola, which is good for dissolving sink clogs, but really shouldn't be used for drinking. Especially when one has access to coke. The soda you freak. And this part is important, so I'm lifting it right from Wikipedia. Wouldn't want it to be more inaccurate than it already is. let's face it kids, I'm OK with insulting entire states, making up historical "facts", and in general engaging in questionable behvior in writing this little opus, but when it comes to barbeque, one simply does not fuck around:

"A nationally-famous cuisine from North Carolina is pork barbecue. However, there are strong regional differences and rivalries over the sauces and method of preparation used in making the barbecue. Eastern North Carolina pork barbecue uses a vinegar-based sauce and the "whole hog" is cooked, thus using both white and dark meat. The "capital" of eastern Carolina barbecue is usually considered to be the town of Wilson, near Raleigh. Western North Carolina pork barbecue uses a ketchup-based sauce and only the pork shoulder (dark meat) is used. The "capital" of western Carolina barbecue is usually considered to be the town of Lexington, south of Winston-Salem. A third type of pork barbecue, using a sauce which is a combination of ketchup and vinegar, is "Shelby" barbecue which is made in the town of Shelby." mmmmmmm, pork barbecue. If only I had a Coke to wash it down with.

There are 8,049,313 people in North Carolina. Some of them play lacrosse. They're also real big on NASCAR and professional wrestling, which, unlike their fascination with BBQ, really isn't something to brag about. Fortunately, they don't seem all that big on hockey, so maybe that fat pigfucker Karmanos will go bankrupt. Go Whalers!

North Carolina is also the home to Duke University. I have known several graduates of Duke. Not a single one of them wasn't a pretentious asshole. I don't know anyone that likes people from Duke, other than other people from Duke. Fuck them.

The state flower is the dogwood.

not to be confused with the Dagwood. Seriously, it's been like 75 years. Retire the comic strip. Or at least show Blondie naked.

North Carolina has a varied geography, from the sand bars of the Outer Banks to the highest point, out on the western border, where Mount Mitchell stands at 6,684 feet , the highest point in the state. And, as far as I know, the highest point east of the Mississippi. (Waits for Tysgirl to correct this.)

The state bird is the cardinal. I think that's like 7 out of 18 states. We get it, it looks pretty. Can't someone take the pigeon and just throw that homely looking thing a bone.

IF YOU'RE IN NORTH CAROLINA YOU SHOULD: Rape and kill Peter Karmanos. However, if getting arrested for buggery and murder isn't your thing, there's no shortage of other things to do. For instance, you're never far from a sporting event, with North Carolina home to professional teams in basketball and football. They also have a hockey team, but you should not, under any circumstances, patronize them or otherwise give them any money. You may, however, give them the finger. With my blessing.

If sports aren't your thing, there's always professional wrestling or NASCAR. Or golf if you're really not athletic.

If you're into men in skirts, (Hello Maggie), there's always Ceud Mile Fáilte and the Grandfather Mountain Highland Games. Nothing says an afternoon well spent than consuming mass quantities of McEwan's Scotch Ale and watching large sweaty men toss telephone poles around.

MISS NORTH CAROLINA LOOKS LIKE THIS:

I'm pretty sure she's the one on the left. Caught by Sheriff Killjoy over there just as she was about to hop a train and get the hell out of North Carolina.

LIMPY'S CONNECTION TO STATE: I've flown through the lovely Charlotte airport on numerous occasions, and once I even went outside. That's about it. Some friends of mine moved down there and found out that Connecticut won't accept your teaching degree from certain North Carolina colleges. That's about it.

HAS LIMPY EVER GOTTEN LAID IN THIS STATE: No, but only because I turned down that senator in the airport bathroom.

Up next it's South Carolina, because you can never have too many Carolinas. Unlike Dakotas of which one, quite frankly, would have been plenty.

Eastern Promises I Would Have Been OK With Them Not Keeping

2008-07-17T10:47:00.001-07:00

I should be back to more regular writing shortly, after I catch up with all of the work I was blowing off for Little League. But last night I watched the movie "Eastern Promises", and I have to say, if I never see Viggo Mortenson's penis again, it will be too soon.

Not With A Bang So Much As A Whimper

2008-07-10T07:15:00.000-07:00

The title of this post should give you some small idea as to how our team faired in the Pool Championship game. For those of you who can't quite figure it out, let's just say that by the third inning I was really hoping that those looming thunderclouds would open up and we could get a do-over. No such luck.

To make a long story short, we lost 8-1 and it really wasn't that close. To make a long story longer, we were in trouble from the first inning on. Our first hitter got on base due to an error. Our manager had him try to steal on the first pitch to the next batter, even though the last time we played this team their catcher threw out three of our runners. And now he's 4-4. Maybe not the decision I would have made. At any rate, our next two hitters grounded out, foreshadowing our offense for the rest of the day.

We started our potentially best pitcher. And I say "potentially" while really hoping his parents never ever stumble across this atrocity of a blog because while he has million dollar athletic ability, he has a .10 head. I've thrown him out of practice before for being a dick to his teammates, and more problematic for him, and us, if he gets in trouble in a game he can't handle it and starts to sulk. Which I loathe. I am not the manager and due to a number's game I didn't get to sit in the dugout, but if I had been, (and it's probably better for everyone I wasn't since I don't keep my thoughts to myself), he'd have blisters on his ears. From the yelling people; it's not like I'm going to set fire to his ears. Probably.

At any rate, naturally he couldn't find the plate with a road map during the game and issued walks as though he were selling beer the day before Prohibition came back. And when he did find the strike zone, the other team usually hit the ball. Hard. Where our guys weren't.

Let me be clear about this. The other team was flat better than us. All things being equal, no way we win that game. They were bigger, more experienced and more skilled. They deserved to win. Sure, I hope they all get hepatitis this week, (and since they play their games behind the local sewage treatment plant, they could!), but they did deserve to win.

After one inning it was 1-0. After 2, 3-0. After 3, 5-1 (our comeback fell short), after 4 it was 7-1, and after 5, it was 8-1. They didn't bat in the sixth.

As for my son, I thought he played well. In the first inning our catcher tried throwing someone out at second, much less successfully than the catcher for the other team had. He tossed the ball about 4' over the head of our shortstop, who, to be fair, is in fact short. Usually that means the base stealer can get to third, if not actually score. The coach started to yell for him to run, but then noticed that some kid playing centerfield had, by some miracle, actually listened to his own coaches during practice, had run in to back up the play, and was standing there with the ball just begging the kid to try to get third.

In the third inning our pitcher threw a strike and, as had been the pattern, said strike was sent hurtling into centerfield, over the centerfielders head, a sure double, maybe a triple. Suddenly, much to the home team's chagrin, that same goddamn kid in centerfield was seen tracking down the ball, running to where it was going to land, and, perhaps most unsettling of all in a Little League game, actually catching it for an out. Even the other coach yelled "Nice play center"

Our centerfielder is named Kevin, and he's my son.

Then he got pulled out of the game so we could meet league reuirements and make sure our two bench guys got in for three outs and one at bat. Kevin's probably our best outfielder, but he hits 8th for a reason. So, needing offense he and the 9th hitter got pulled . He was pretty upset, but I just explained it was league rules, and while we had to put the other two kids in the field, there was no way we could put them in the infield. They'd be killed. Also I pointed out that regardless of what happened we'd be going to Yankee Stadium the next day and sitting in the front row, so who gave a shit? Cheered him right up.

So naturally, not only did his center-field replacement strike out, (just like Kevin had earlier), but in the 4th inning one of the other hitters hit a line-drive into center. Replacement Boy charges in, the ball bounces towards him, and then, as I had told my brother minutes before was going to happen, the two kept charging in opposite directions. The ball wound up at the fence, two more runs scored, and my son could be heard muttering "No way I miss that" Oh wait, that was me. I think my kid was stealing Gatorade in the dugout.

Next inning the same kid failed to catch an easy pop-up, letting another run score.

I like this kid, but he's been doing this all season, and in fact he did it in warm-ups that day and I had told him he couldn't do it in a game or else something bad would happen. Which is pretty much what did happen, and why Little Leaguers will make you turn to crack.

At any rate, if Kevin stayed in center, it would have been a different outcome. Specifcally, we'd have lost 5-1 instead of 8-1.

So that's the season. Now we'll rest up for a few weeks, and then probably do it all again for Fall Ball.

Now where's Amy Winehouse and my crack?

Season Update!

2008-07-02T06:14:00.000-07:00

Such excitement! I know you've been as anxious to find out how our season is going as I am for it to end.

uh, I mean continue until we win the championship.

The team is 2-1, and unless something goes drastically wrong on Saturday, should steamroll through our last game on Saturday to go 3-1 and then have, uh, I mean "get", to play for the Division Sectional Championship next Tuesday. If we win that, (and we already lost to that team once, but only after blowing a 7 run lead and going to extra innings), we would play yet another game for the right to play for the Divisional Championship. Our Division is broken up into three sections. Before the season Division A got a bye for the first round of the play-offs. We're in B. So if, (and that's a mighty big if), we win B, we then play the champions from C for the right to play A for the whole ball of wax. Got that so far? Yeah, I don't either. What I do know is that the team currently leading C has only played two games, has already scored as many runs as we have in three games, shut one team out, and mercyed both teams they played. So I'm thinking best case scenario, (worst case?), we've got 3 games left. Because I suspect that C is going to roll through the whole division like Mack trucks on a puppy farm.

As for number one son he's playing solid centerfield defense and as for his offense, couldn't hit water if he fell out of a fucking boat. Such is life.

As for coaching, let's just say that if I never have to deal with Little League parents again, it will be too soon. How hard is it to figure out that if you have two unexcused absences, your kid is off the team? You know how you get around that? FUCKING CALL US!!!!!!!!!!!!

Breaking Away

2008-06-23T07:27:00.000-07:00

I will be taking a break from any new posts for the near future. There are no dramatic reasons for it, I'm simply too fucking busy. My son made the All-Star team for his Little League division, and that has become an all-consuming drain on free time and energy. I was asked to help coach, so it's sucking up my time as well. This isn't like the usual town Little League, where you practice a couple of times a week and then play a couple of games. No, we practice every goddamn day for a couple of hours and play games all over our half of the state. If, as a coach, you miss two games you have to resign. Players are expected at every practice and game, and we're already trying to decide how to deal with our best player, who's missed two practices because his parents took him out-of-state for a family wedding. Seriosuly, this kid's like 11. Like he has a choice. But we have to deal with the league, so it becomes an issue. Frankly, the kid should be barred from practice, because if he gets any better the Yankees are going to draft him.

No, before anyone thinks I'm bragging about my kid making the All-Star team, (which I am), we had 12 kids sign up for 13 spots. Everyone makes the team, just like the Special Olympics. And judging from our first couple of practices, that's not all we have in common with the Special Olympics. This Week we play our first game against a neighboring, and much larger town, where they actually have more kids than they do spots, so they pick the best 13 and therefore have an advantage in that their team has, for instance, a second baseman who doesn't feel compelled to dive for ground balls hit slowly right at him. We, um, don't.

Apparently if our team keeps winning we'd be the champions of the entire state and play through the entire summer. Also apparently, it seems more likely we'll play four games and then our won-loss records should be enough to earn us the rest of the summer off. I hope.

The funny thing is my kid didn't even want to do this, instead planning to spend the summer indoors working on his Guitar Hero III skills and driving us nuts. But I said no, signed him up, and was a bit at a loss when he made it. Oh well, at least he'll keep busy outdoors for a few weeks. I, however, will go slowly insane. (er)

Anyway, I'll keep stopping by, but new posts here will be infrequent until the larger towns kick the crap out of us. Good times.

Because Now Cedar Won't Quit

2008-06-13T11:45:00.000-07:00

51. I'm strangely addicted to the show "Deadliest Catch" I have no idea why; it's pretty much the same show every time. Ship goes out, ship catches crab, the waether in the Bering Sea can be rough.
Nonetheless, I watch it every time.

52. I can guarantee that my gravestone will not say "He Wished He Spent More Time At Work"

53. I can't guarantee that it won't say "What A Dick"

54. As I've remarked earlier here, hockey used to be my faovrite sport, (to watch. I can't skate for shit), but I lost interest after Peter Karmanos, that sack of shit, took the Whalers
to Carolina. This year, however, I was able to start watching it again with renewed interest, although I still don't have a favorite team. Whoever it evetually is, it sure as shit won't be the Hurricanes.

54. I can hold a grudge for a long-ass time. And I'll do it. I do not forgive easily.

55. The Stanley Cup
is easily the coolest trophy in all of sports. I'd like to steal it and threaten to melt it into tire rims unless the Whalers are returned.

56. I wasn't kidding about the grudge.

57. I am very bad with new technology. Answering my cell phone without electorcuting myself is cause for rejoicing. I would be much better at these things if I read the directions. But I don't.

58. I am over-competitive to a fault. An ex-girlfriend once got mad at me because I would n't let anyone else on my team, including her father, answer questions in "Trivial Pursuit"
My response? "Yeah, but we won."

59. If I had to pick a favorite porn star, (and thanks to late night Cinemax reruns, I don't!), it would have to be Savannah Samson. Also, I really hate the filters on my work computer right now.

60. I think panda bears are cool.

61. I am running out of ideas.

62. When I was about 12, a rock hit me right in the mouth, knocking a permanent tooth out and resulting in my taking 50 stitches in the lips. Which really fucking hurts.

63. In a related note: Hey kids! That broken down dam down the street from your house? The one you and your friends are going to ride your bikes to and then climb up? Yeah, about that. Don't do it.

64. I love snow. There's no such thing as too much of it. But then, I don't live in Colorado.

65. I work out a lot. It's my outlet. As a result I don't have much stress and I'm in pretty good shape for a guy pushing 40.

66. Also as a result of #65, here's a list of body parts that currently give me at least occasional trouble: right foot, right knee, right groin, low back, left hand, left elbow, left shoulder. I think I'm falling apart diagonally.

67. Lately I've been trying to improve my gas mileage by coasting down any good-sized hill, and driving at or near the posted speed limit, as opposed to my usual 80 mph. As a result, I've been getting 490 miles per tank, as opposed to the 380 or so I was getting. Feel free to make use of that yourself.

68. One of the bravest things I've ever done was to charge into a swarm of white-faced hornets
to get my first dog off his line, where he was under attack.

69. White-faced hornets hurt like a motherfucker.

70. The best places to swim are always illegal. I swim in them anyway. And bring my kids.

71. I'm currently reading "The Fatal Shore", afine novel explaining why one should never trust an Austrailian. Actually a very good book. This is my second trip through it.

72. I want to put solar panels on my house, becuase I'm not real eager to find out how much my electircal bill is going to be in the future.

72. I was raised Catholic, but have long since fallen away from the church.

73. I can't beat my son at Halo3.

74. I kick the crap out of him at NHL '08.

75. Today I went to a funeral for the mother of a person I don't particularly like. But her husband is one of my best friends and I went because it was the right thing to do. If my kids learn nothing else from me, I want them to learn to do that.

76. I think that most of the world's problems could be easily solved if we just addressed the problem of over-population. To that end I support the elimination of groups of undesirables. And I'd like to suggest we start by eliminating wacky drive-time radio DJs.

77. I wasn't kidding about the population thing. If we don't slow things down, everything else means dick.

78. I like to sweat. Make of that what you will.

79. I'd like to see some lurkers comment about this. You know who you are.

80. Oh dear go there are 20 more of these to go. Hey, if I type that 19 more times...

81. When I was a kid I used to love to read the historic battles section of The People's Almanac. I probably knew a lot more about the Battle of Agincourt than any other 12 year old.

82. Yes, I am a nerd.

83. When Little League season ends I'm going to join my friend's gym and learn to box. Can you say mid-life crisis?

84. One of my favorite comic strips is the old Bloom County, (the new/returned one is just OK), with Opus and Milo and Co. One of my faovrites is an exchange between Opus and Milo when Opus is going on a date. Milo asks him if he's got his wallet and Opus gets all snooty and says 'Sir, money cannot buy you love" and Milo
responds, "No, but it does improve your bargaining position. Here's $10." I always liked Milo.

85. The best comic strip ever was "Calvin & Hobbes" If you disagree I will fight you.

86. I take my comics pretty seriously. In fact, its the only reason I haven't canceled my subscription to our local paper, which increasingly seems to be run by high-schoolers.

87. I wish I knew about Tom Waits and his song "Long Way Home" when my wife and I debated the song for our first dance. You'll be happy to know I managed to rule out a Tiffany song.

88. There is no better candy bar than a Kit Kat. If you disagree, I will not fight you, but will just figure "more for me" and probably munch my way into a diabetic coma.

89. I have a picture of my wife in a bikini in my office.

90. Right now I find the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit issue a little boring. If you're going to do porn, just do porn. quit kidding us. But in high school that thing was more precious than gold. I think Kathy Ireland made me realize I had hit puberty.

91. Shit, I just had a good one and now I can't remember it.

92. I think this is one of the creepiest things ever. I would, however, have liked to handle the cross-examination. "So, nothing to say for yourself eh? I think that speaks volumes! Your witness."

93. I type in the "Hunt & Peck", two-fingered style, but still do it pretty quickly.

94. I'm always amazed when people are concerned about what other people, who they don't know, think about them. Which is short-hand for telling anyone out there you can say whatever you want about me here. I promise not to lose any sleep over it.

95. I know how to ride a horse. Haven't done it for awhile though.

96. One of the best things about our yard is that every couple of summers a snapping turtle lays eggs in the pines in the side yard. If we find her afterwards we always throw her in a wheelbarrow and give her a ride back to her pond.

97. One of my favorite Xmas gifts ever was the canoe I got two years ago.

98. I won't set up my Xmas tree until Xmas Eve. People with Xmas trees up the day after Thanksgiving are weird.

99. The first 50 of these were definitely more interesting, weren't they?

100. But fortunately, we're done now.

"Is This Heaven" "No it's Iowa"

2008-06-10T11:01:00.000-07:00

Found this over at Nick's. I liked it, so I stole it. Pretty self-explanatory.

A man and his dog were walking along a road. The man was just enjoying the scenery, when it suddenly occurred to him that he was dead. He remembered dying and the dog had been dead for years.

He wondered where the road was leading them. After a while they came to a high white stone wall along one side of the road. It looked like fine marble.

At the top of a long hill it was broken by a tall arch that glowed in the sunlight. When he was standing before it he saw a magnificent gate in the arch that looked like mother of pearl, and the street that led to the gate looked like pure gold.

He and the dog walked toward the gate, and as he got closer he saw a man at a desk to one side. When he was close enough he called out, "Excuse me, where are we?"

"This is heaven, sir," the man answered.

"Wow! Would you happen to have some water?" the man asked.

"Of course, sir. Come right in and I'll have some ice water brought right up." The man gestured, and the gate began to open.

"Can my dog come in too?" the traveler asked.

"I'm sorry, sir, but we don't accept pets."

The man thought a moment and then turned back toward the road and continued the way he had been going. After another long walk, and at the top of another long hill, he came to a dirt road which led through a farm gate that looked as if it had never been closed. There was no fence. As he approached the gate he saw a man inside, leaning against a tree and reading a book.

"Excuse me" he called to the reader, "Do you have any water?"

"Yeah, sure, there's a pump over there." The man pointed to a place that couldn't be seen from outside the gate. "Come on in."

"How about my friend here?" the traveler gestured to the dog.

"There should be a bowl by the pump."

They went through the gate and, sure enough, there was an old fashioned hand pump with a bowl beside it. The traveler filled the bowl and took a long drink himself. When they were full, he and the dog walked back toward the man, who was standing by then, waiting for them.

"What do you call this place?" he asked.

"This is heaven," was the answer.

"Well, that's confusing," he said, "the man down the road said that was heaven too."

"Oh, you mean the place with the gold street and pearly gates? That's hell."

"Doesn't it make you mad for them to use your name like that?"

"No. I can see how you might think so, but we're just happy that they screen out the jerks who'll leave their dogs behind."

Why I Shouldn't Coach Your Kid: Part Infinity +1

2008-06-09T08:11:00.001-07:00

Last night, after the thunderstorms had cleared and the temperature was back up to about 93, we had Little League practice, to which a total of 4 kids, (who are going to start tonight), showed up. One of them is the manager's son. I was throwing batting practice. He likes to talk crap, so as he walked up the batter's box he announces that if I hit him he's going to charge the mound "like Coco Crisp."

I hit him with the first pitch.

I could totally kick Coco's ass anyway.

(Cedar, I'm in the mid-70's! Hang on!)

Mississippi: More Than Just Rickets

2008-05-26T19:52:00.000-07:00

Chapter 18 in the now rocketing along "Know Limpy's States!" The excitement line starts over there!

I wrote that last week. This clearly isn't rocketing anywhere.

Mississippi is the 20th state to enter the Union, joining up on December 10, 1817. Prior to that it had been explored by Hernando de Soto for Spain in 1540, claimed by the French in 1699 followed by their construction of the first European settlement in Mississippi, Natchez, in 1706. "Natchez" being French for "Good Christ it's humid here". Then the French and Indian War took place and Great Britain took over until handing it over to the US in 1783, and then finally Spain ceded what they called "Spanish West Florida" to the US, including parts of the Mississippi coast, in 1819. Basically, over a bit less than 300 years three European powers poked around Mississippi, decided they didn't want it, then left it with us, where they found it in the first place. Making Mississippi the equivalant to the leftovers in the back of your refrigerator. The way back.

The name "Mississippi" is derived from, from, uh, hmmm, let's see here,...oh, how about that. Seems that there's a river with the same name that makes up the western border of the state.
Who'd have thunk it? Probably not the students in Mississippi, considering they've come in last in achievement in math and science, (2007), out of all the states. On the plus side, they did have a top 50 finish among all the states in 2004 for academic achievement. Of course, it was 50th, but still, that's top 50 bitch!

For the record, the little pansy Yankee fucker making fun of Mississippi's lack of academic accomplishments, ("time to count to twenny-wun, ya'll. Drop yer coveralls!"), just spelled "achievement" twice with an "r". Just thought it was fair that you knew that.

Mississippi is not without its fair share of academic type accomplishments, counting Tennesse Williams and Eudora Welty among its residents, (former residents anyway), and of course, one of my favorites, William Faulkner, pictured here
after a strenuous afternoon of not doing sit-ups. (Line somewhat stolen from wwtdd.com in reference to Richie Sambora. I'd link but can't due to our workplace security system. So type it your self. Obviously, NSFW.)

Side-note about Faulkner. In high school I was in the English honors program, which in my high school meant we didn't color in the same books we read. One of the books we had to read was Faulkner's "The Hamlet", which as I recall had something to do with an unsavory character named Snopes slowly taking over the town and eventually getting to have sex with a hot little number who may have been somewhat retarded. I never really got what the whole thing was about and read enough to pass the obligatory quiz. Years later, we lived near a bookstore that sold used books. One day I was in there thumbing through the pornos, (well, I was doing something in the pornos), and decided that I needed to improve my literature collection beyond stories that start off "I never believed your stories were true but...", so I wound up buying The Hamlet and another Faulkner story, "Light in August" I read them both and after doing so, I beseech someone, anyone, to tell me what the fuck the point is for "Light in August" Towards the end there's a passage where the main, (I think) character is hallucinating, (I think), and there's a mention in there of something or someone passing by ike 'the light in August', and I'm pretty sure it must have been important because the title of the book was right fucking there, but for the life of me, I could not figure it out.

And I just read a summary on wikipedia and now I'm even more confused. Apparently the title has something to do with the special quality of light in Mississippi during August. Great. Just fucking great.

There are 2,910,540 people in Mississippi, most of whom are kin and few of whom can see their toes without the use of a mirror. Mississippi is the most overweight state in the nation, with 30% of adults and 22.8% of kids qualifying as obese. Again, in the interest of full disclosure, if I lived in an area where the diet staples were fried chicken, pie and biscuits n' gravy, well, let's just say 31% of the population would be obese. I'm not kidding myself here.

Missippi is known as the Magnolia State. Apparently stealing the idea from their neighbor's state flower. Guess what the state flower is? That's right, a rose. Nah, just kidding, it's the Magnolia.

Mississippi is composed entirely of lowlifes...oh, wait, lowlands, and the highest point in the state is atop towering 806' tall Woodall Mountain, which is described as being in "the foothills" of the Cumberland Mountains. A more accurate description might be "at the bottom of the Cumberland Mountains".

IF YOU'RE IN MISSISSIPPI YOU SHOULD: I'm not sure, as I've never been. Apparently, however, "leaving" is a favored option, with Mississippi a key staging point in two "Great Migrations" of southerners heading north. However, if you simply must stay, Mississippi's offical list of things to do suggests Mardi Gras season starting in January, The Great Backyard Bird Count in February, (residents are reminded not to "count" the birds via shotgun), and of course, the Gautier Mullett Festival in October.
I'm growing mine out now!

MISS MISSISSIPPI LOOKS LIKE THIS:
I dunno, she looks a little too stuck up to take to the Mullett Festival and see how many crawfish and beer she can put away before the next band takes the stage.

LIMPY'S CONNECTION TO STATE: Other than knowing a really cool lesbian who happens to live there, none. Although once when I was in New Orleans I stuck my foot in the Mississippi River, so that's gotta count for something.

HAS LIMPY EVER GOTTEN LAID IN THIS STATE: No.

UP NEXT: North Carolina. Fuck Duke!

Editor's Note: I deleted the last post so that this one would go to the front. For some reason it came up below it and that was pissing me off. If anyone knows how to move posts around, let me know.

Louisiana: Hey, They Make Penicillin Out Of Mold, So Quit Giving Us Shit

2008-05-23T06:51:00.000-07:00

Chapter 17 in the "I-can't-believe-he's-still-doing-this" novella, "Know Limpy's States". And just so you all know, I'm doing this without the book I usually use. Instead, I'm relying on Wikipedia for this one. Because if you can't trust information on the internet derived from anyone with the ability to type, what can you trust?

Louisiana is the 18th state to enter the Union, being admitted on April 30th, 1812. Prior to that, Louisiana was part of the French claim to land in North America. But, in a little known part of American history, (little known if you go to my son's school, where I just had to explain to a 4th grader who won WWII!!!) (We did), Thomas Jefferson purchased an enormous swath of land from Napoleon, a short guy with a temper who happened to rule France. Jefferson, who knew a thing or two about the French, was concerend about Nappy's plans to start colonizing the Louisiana area, as would anyone faced with a sudden influx of French. Jefferson offered to buy New Orleans and some land along the Mississippi for $2 million. Which is probably about what you could get New Orleans for today. The French, from whom my wife apparently got her negotiating skills, responded by asking, "Hey, how much will you pay for the whole thing!?", thereby allowing them to get some spare cash, and, more importantly, avoiding the logistics of fighting a war and their inevitable retreat in the face of three guys armed with slingshots.

Jefferson, never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, (He died broke. For real yo'. You can look it up. I'd post it, but this is about state's, not Presidents. Do some work yourself for Christ's sake!), agreed to part with $15 million of other people's money for a huge piece of land no one had ever seen. Except the Indians who had lived there for centuries, but as I think we've already established here, no one gave a shit about that.

Little know fact I just learned and since it's from Wikipedia may be true or just made up: Napoleon had the money passed through Dutch and English banks using an English banker. As a reult France only got about $8.8 million out of the deal. Napoleon used that money from English bankers to finance his wars against England. Which later led to the collapse of the French empire and Napoleon's exile and death. Meanwhile, America more than doubled in size AND we got New Orleans. America: Fuck yeah!

Louisiana is known as The Bayou State. Because there are a lot of bayous in it. Bayous are useful for flood control. Many of them have been drained to allow for additional development. This is a good idea that could never, ever backfire. They're also apparently filled with girls who look like Kim Basinger in her prime, which is one more reason to keep them around. Louisiana is also called the Pelican State, Child of the Mississippi, The Creole State, Sportsman's Paradise, and The Sugar State. The state motto is "Union, Justice and Confidence", although I always thought it was "Show Us Your Tits!"

Louisiana is the only state that follows the Napoleonic Code, a form of French law based on Roman law established by Napoleon to simplify French law. I believe it's largely based on settling disputes by seeing who can eat the most oysters at one sitting, but I could be wrong about that. Since Louisiana is the only state that follows it no one else can understand it or get admitted to the Bar as a matter of courtesy. Fortunately, Louisiana will allow pretty much anyone into the other bars in the state, and that's really all we attorneys care about.

As of 2000 there were 4,468,976 people in Louisiana. As of 2006 there were considerably less. The population has dropped an estimated 4%+ since Hurricane Katrina roared through New Orleans and we all got to see what happens when you combine a Category 5 hurricane with a city 8' below sea level and the federal government. Nothing good.

The Louisiana state bird is the Brown Pelican. Here we see two of them contemplating life, the universe and everything. Truly birds of beauty and grace.

The state flower is the Magnolia. Not the crappy steel ones either.

The highest point in Louisiana is not in New Orleans. A somewhat crucially overlooked fact lately. Nope, New Orleans is actually the lowest point in the state, 8 feet below sea level. The highest point is Driskill Mountain, towering 535' above sea level. Or just slightly higher than the dam down the street from my house. Seriously, who are you kidding calling that a mountain? You people must get winded climbing two flights of stairs.

IF YOU'RE IN NEW ORLEANS YOU SHOULD: Do nothing other than go to New Orleans, even if it's still kind of damp and smells funny. I've been there a number of time, always on business unfortunately, (although I still got drunk), and it's simply one of the best cities in the world, even if I do think rebuilding a city below sea level and subject to massive hurricanes may not be the best idea I've ever heard. The food, the bars, the people, the sky-high murder rate! Man, you'll be on your toes and energized from the minute you arrive to the minute you leave. I've never been to Mardi Gras, but I'm told that unless you're 18-24 and think it's fun to throw up on yourself, it's somewhat overrated. But the French Quarter
is awesome year round. There's nothing better than grabbing abeer and wandering the streets, stopping outside of bars to listen to various jazz, zydeco or blues bands cranking out music. Well, getting laid afterwards would have been nice, but my spoilsport company wouldn't fly my wife down with me. Probably fairly smart of them actually.

MISS LOUISIANA LOOKS LIKE THIS:
For some reason I can't get the link to the standard pictures of the miss America contestants I'd been using, so Ms. Dupont here has a distinct advantage over our previous contestants, although her taste in hairstyles is questionable at best. Still, call me!

LIMPY'S CONNECTION TO STATE: As noted above, I've been to New Orleans several times, each time on business. At the time I was working for a firm that specialized in toxic tort defense work, so we did a lot of work with chemical companies. Which New Orleans has a lot of, accounting for the odd smells, (well some of them anyway. I'm pretty sure the smell outside of Pat O'Brien's was urine), and amazing sunsets. Oh wait, that's an oil rig fire.

At any rate, I'd occasionally have to go down there to either review thousands of documents or else sit in a room and watch opposing counsel review documents and make sure they didn't steal anything. Interesting fact, you can do both without much sleep and while hungover. Consequently I've spent a good deal of time eating in some of the better restaurants, (expense accounts for major petrochemical companies are ridiculous. And may account for why I'm paying $4.05 a gallon for regular unleaded.), and staying at the House of Blues until 3 am. And it's great. I'd go back in a second. I hope they rebuild the city, even if it doesn't make a damn bit of sense. It's just too great a city to lose.

But maybe they should leave some parts alone and reestablish those mangrove swamps on the shore.

HAS LIMPY EVER GOTTEN LAID IN THIS STATE: No. I'd like to fix that though. Sure, I could have picked someone up while I was down there, but once you wander by a bar with a sign that says "You won't believe they're not women", you start to get a little wary.

Next Up: I'm not sure, since the book is at home, but based on our being in the southeast, and my mastery of the alphabet, I do believe we may be going to visit Syd! Pack some heat. And yes, I said "pack"

What I Did On My Summer Vacation

2008-05-19T07:11:00.001-07:00

By Limpy

We went to Florida.

Oh alright, since you asked...

We went to Florida and spent two days at Disney, then went across the state to the west coast and spent a few days with friends. The Disney trip was for the kids and my wife, who has always wanted to take her kids to Disney when they were 9 and 7. Seriously, she told me this when she dragged me to that over-priced shit-ho..., uh, I mean Disney, back in 1996, two years before we even started having kids. Yes, I should have run then, but the thing is, she's really good in bed.

So the kids having advanced chronologically far enough, this year by God and by damn, we were going to Disney.

You know that stupid commercial where the two little kids are running to the window while Cinderella's pumpkin carriage comes up their window, and their parents are downstairs on the computer discovering that they can go to Disney for $1,600 for six days? I'm not sure where that family is staying, but I'm guessing Georgia, because that sure as hell wasn't what we paid, although it was close, which was odd since we were there for 2 days and nights!

We stayed at the Wilderness Lodge, or Fort Wilderness, or Something-With-Wilderness-In-The-Title. We got one room for the four of us. The kids got a bunk bed. We got a queen-size bed. There was a balcony with no lights outside, so it was useless after dark. We went there right after the airport, so we didn't do much other than hit the pool, which was pretty much bathwater, and, we were to discover later, occasionally home to ducks. Dinner was, to put it bluntly, wretched. I'm pretty sure that the "ribs" I had were leftovers from McDonald's latest attempt to revive the "McRib"
sandwich, (when will they learn?), and they'd clearly been microwaved.

On the other hand, the place was eerily clean, the staff was friendly in a brainwashed kind of way, and the breakfasts were damn good. I did remark that if one more person told me to have a magical day, I was going to kill them. I think they bug the rooms, because I never heard it again. So when we checked out I told the clerk to "Have a magical day".

The next day , we went to The Magic Kingdom itself, or as I called it, "The Happiest Fucking Place On Earth", for a day of fun and frivolity. We did get to go there an hour before anyone else, so for a brief period of time we were able to get on rides pretty quickly, and without having to deal with the unwashed masses who weren't staying in the Magic Kingdom itself. Of course, they saved several hundred dollars over me, so who's the dumb-ass on that one? Exactly. Me.

We spent the entire day in the park, during which time we learned that neither of our kids likes roller coasters. Fortunately there's only three in the whole park, and one of them, Space Mountain, broke down three times that day, so even I decided it wasn't worth waiting for. The kids did run all over the Swiss Family Robinson tree fort half-a dozen times, and the guy we got for The Jungle Cruise did a great job,
bashing Disney several times, quoting Willy Wonka and at one point asking if we knew how the ride could be any worse, before starting to sing "It's A Small World". If they allowed tipping that kid would've been rich.

We ended the day having hit every single ride in the park, (of which there really aren't that many), and waiting an ungodly amount of time to meet Princess Ariel
(for my daughter you pervs), only to get to the front of the line and be told that there would be a short break because Princess Ariel needed a "swimming" break. I'm pretty sure that was code for "needed to go out back and smoke half a pack of Marlboros before dealing with more sweaty kids", and I can't say I blamed her.

For me, the highlight of the day had to be when we were standing in line for the Peter Pan ride. As we waited, we saw one of the ubiquitous, (SAT word alert!), white heron-type birds come flying by with a small bird frantically flapping its wings from the heron's beak. The heron landed and, while a woman who clearly never watched Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom ordered the heron to "leave that bird alone", ate the thing in two gulps and then flew off. Happiest Place on Earth indeed.

The next day we splashed around in the pool before breakfast. There we were somewhat surprised to confront four ducks swimming in the pool. Let me say that the animals around Fort Wilderness are pretty damn tame. I suspect that they may actually be on the payroll. I almost stepped on a rabbit that wandered across the walking path at the same time as I was going along. The rabbit hardly seemed fazed, just sort of glanced at me and hopped over to the grass and commenced nibbling. The ducks were swimming in the pool and you could get pretty close to them before they'd sort of turn away and slowly paddle off. A little odd, but I figure before long the heron'll get them.

We checked out after breakfast and drove from Orlando to Fort Meyers. Took about 2.5 hours and has to be one of the dullest rides ever. There are no hills to break up the monotony, and even the slightest curve is cause for celebration. And despite the real estate problems, it seems the entire area is under construction. For christ's sake people, you can't sell the property you already have! Why are you building more!? And you have no water as it is!!!!!!

We spent the next 4 days staying with friends. One of them can cook really, really well. Dinners the next three days were marinated and grilled rib-eye steaks that could have been cut with a fork; ribs that could not be moved from the grill to the plate without falling apart, (she said the secret was that she made them "with love", which led me to a brief and disturbing recollection of the "love" Phollower puts in his cooking. Then I ate them anyway); and pasta with home-made meatballs and two kinds of sausage. The fourth night we took them out to dinner, depsite my suggestion that we stay in and just pay her to cook, since it would've been better.

The only downer for me was that a local restaurant had closed two weeks earlier and they had White-Chocolate Banana Cream pie available. In past years I would go buy an entire pie and then bring it back and slowly devour it over the vacation. I was seriously bummed that I couldn't do it this year. Fuck you chain restaurants with crappy deserts!

Most of our days were spent in the ocean, where a manatee swam within 10 feet of my soon. You can imagine the glee that imparts in a nine-year-old, getting to watch a large dark shape glide by in the ocean. He spent most of the rest of the day comfortably ensconced on land. All I saw was a big dark blob in the water, and I was probably a hundred yards up the beach at the time, looking for gopher turtles. I found three.

After the beach we'd stay by the pool and, as mentioned before, eat too much. I did rent a kayak and go up and down the Estero River. I saw a river otter not six feet away from me eating a fish.
It looked at me twice before deciding to hop back in the creek and swim away. He went in the same direction I was headed, and I swear he was playing with me. I would lose sight of him around a corner, then clear that bend and see his head poking out of the water. He'd see me and then dart off again. Kept up the low speed chase for about 20 minutes when he must have become bored and disappeared into some weeds to the side of the river.

The last day we went to one of our favorite places, Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary,
an Audobon run area that has a 2 mile long boardwalk and tons of neat stuff to look at, from Anole lizards to alligators. It's the really dry season in Florida, so the swamp was drained. We still saw a large female gator, (I know it was female because the guide who came up while we were lookin at it told me. It's not like I was going to hop the rail and go check), and a couple of turtles, some glowing spiders, a Lubbers grasshopper which are pretty big, very slow, and very colorful. We also saw a bunch of neat birds, although none of the wading brids since the water hadn't arrived yet, and killed many deer fly. I'm not sure the Audobon people approve of that, but fuck them, those things hurt.

As to my son punching another kid in the face, here's the story. The couple we stay with live next door to their niece and nephew. Who coincidentally are roughly the same age as my son and daughter. Works out pretty well, especially when we can stick 'em in front of video games and then take oursleves outside for a beer or four. But the nephew has been taking karate, and my son took karate for awhile, getting to the blue belt level, (which in his case I think meant "went long enough for a series of Dad's checks to get him a blue belt"), before getting bored. So this kid has a whole set of sparring equipment: gloves, head-gear, face masks and shin and foot pads. And he asks my son if he wants to spar. So my son agrees and they each proceed to put on more gear than your average football player. Half an hour later they're ready to go. The nephew annouces something along the lines of, "This is my tiger/monkey style" and proceeds to start waving his hands in various patterns and making the appropriate noises. My son watches him do this for about 20 seconds and then punches him right in the face(mask). God that was funny.

Other than that I'd have to give the nephew the decision, but they seemed to have fun. I did have to edxplain to my wife that this is how guys interact, and that letting them whale on each other, (albeit while wearing enough padding to absorb a wayward skydiver), would not lead to either of them becoming a serial killer.

All in all, not a bad time. And I never have to go back to Disney again.

Cat's In The Cradle

2008-05-15T11:32:00.000-07:00

Before I get into my wonderful trip to Florida, I'm going to talk about my son. Because I am very proud of him. Last night was another in a series of Little League games over the last 4 years. But last night was also the first time that the little shit took the mound and pitched for his team. I can't quite explain how I felt watching him on the mound, fidgeting with his glove, realizing that everyone was watching him and still pitching. I could hear other parents cheering for him, and I could hear the coaches from the other team tell their players to get their fingers out of their noses and watch the new pitcher warm-up, because "this kid's throwing fast." I can't explain how it felt to watch him throw to his first batter and...

Holy shit did he just hit that kid?

Yep.

Long story longer, we played a game last ight and our starting pitcher, to put it mildly, couldn't hit the water if he fell out of a fucking boat. Thanks Kevin Costner! He wasn't helped by our infield either, a usually reliable crew that suddenly morphed into a bunch of ham-handed drunks who couldn't catch Hepatitis from Pam Anderson's sheets. So my son was called in to relieve him with the two on and one out and three runs in. Our league has a mercy rule that only allows five runs an inning, so there wasn't a lot of pressure. He walked the bases loaded, then threw a passed ball to allow a run in. He did try to run in to cover the plate, but tripped and fell on his face. Thankfully, any swears he may have said, (and he knows 'em all), were muffled by the grass. Then he struck a kid out before giving up a final walk after going to 3-2 on the last kid, ending the inning.

We sent him out for the fourth inning. He promptly drilled the first kid in the elbow, resulting in an audible THWACK! sound. The next kid up was the biggest kid on either team. The first pitch knocked him down, coming in high and tight, and I began to wonder if his great uncle had been telling him Bob Gibson stories when I wasn't listening. The kid got back up and swung at the next three pitches while keeping one foot in the dugout. The next two kids grounded out after realizing that they needed to start swinging, because the new kid was throwing strikes.

And that was it. There's a 40 pitch limit on every pitcher, otherwise they can't pitch in the next game. You can go to 75 pitches, but then the kid can't pitch for at least four days and must miss one game, even if it's 6 days away. Little League: Sucking the fun out of baseball for years!

So that was it. He made a couple of nice plays at 3B and at the plate did what he usually does, which is swing and miss, but I was very proud of him. Sentimental even.

I'm going to go kill a hooker tonight so that tomorrow we can get back to the usual deparvity around here.

The Return

2008-05-14T08:24:00.000-07:00

I've returned from our family vacation to Disney and other parts of Florida. I'll bring you up to date on the highlights of said trip at a later date, as I've returned to a mountain of work that I need to get through. I'm thinking fire might be the most effective way to catch up. This afternoon I've got a hearing to amp up for, then leap right back into the whirlwind that is Little League. I know where the field is where we're supposed to go, but we have to take some bizarre way to get there, because "the bridge is out". What the hell? The field's at an elementary school? What bridge?

Should be interesting.

Highlights of the Florida trip:

My son punches the neighbor kid in the face and doesn't get in trouble.
What it sounds like when a river otter eats.
Disney sucks.
Manatees prove anti-climactic.
And I'm sure I'll think of some other stuff that happened too.

Kentucky: They Shoot Horses Don't They?

2008-05-04T19:46:00.000-07:00

Chapter 16 in the now-on-life-support "Know Limpy's States", and probably the runaway winner for the "Title In The Most Poor Taste" Well, it will be the runaway winner unless it breaks both its ankles. Then we'll just roll a couple of trucks in front of it and, well, see what happened Jimmy is that title got sent to a farm in another state where it can play with all the other titles forever and ever. -BANG!!-

Kentucky is the 15th state, entering the Union on June 1, 1792. Prior to that it was suburb of Virginia and was first populated by Daniel Boone, who established a settlement at Boonesborough, (no false modesty for Dan'l), shortly after a treaty with the Cherokee opened the area up to white-folk. And, as usually happens when white folk show up, there went the neighborhood.

Kentucky is know as "The Bluegrass State". This nickname is derived not from the color of the grass, which is in fact green, but from the bluish buds the grass produces in the spring, which make the meadows look blue. Especially if you're really, really high. I actually didn't make that part up, (well, except for the whole being high thing, but I've got some readers who could probably field test that), that's really where the "bluegrass" thing comes from. Looked it up and everything! And you guys thought I just mailed these in. With good reason actually.

Kentuxky is known for many things, such as bourbon,
but is probably best know for The Kentucky Derby. I'm told this is a horse race of some note. This year the winner was accorded many accolades, won over a million dollars, was draped with an enormous collar of roses, (which he then probably ate), and can look forward to spending his retirement on a farm, (no for real!), banging female horses all day every day.

The runner-up got shot.

I'm still working this in to a motivational speech to our Little League team. Should be a doozy.

The Derby is also famous for women wearing great big stupid hats
and everyone drinking mint juleps and, before the race, singing the state song, "My Old Kentucky Home (Has A Broke-Off Screen Door 'N A Car Up On Blocks Inna Front Yard)", which once included the lyrics "tis summer/The Darkies are gay", until 1986 or so when someone changed them. I've never been to the Derby, but I have to wonder what everyone did at that point in the song. Hum?

Kentucky is home to the aptly named Mammoth Cave, which at 340 miles is the second longest explored cave system in the world, right after Jenna Jameson.
Hey-O! No, it's actually the longest. Jenna's only 324 miles wide. I'd actually like to check that cave out. Hours spent wriggling around in a confined space with my face pushed into some odd smelling muck! What could be better. And, oh yeah, Mammoth Cave would probably be cool too. (Anyone who didn't see that coming should check themselves for a pulse)

There are 4,117,827 people in Kentucky. All of them root for the Kentucky Wildcats men's basketball team as though they fate of the Earth itslef depended on them making at least the Sweet Sixteen. Which, as has been proved over and over in recent years, it clearly does not. Only one of these people is Ashley Judd,
which is too bad. Wait, Kentucky has a hockey team!? About four of them are Wynonna Judd (on the right for the confused) .

The Kentucky state bird is the cardinal. And I can't believe this, but so far Kentucky is the only state with the cardinal as a state bird. and I was all set to blast them for their lack of originality too.

The state flower is Goldenrod. I think this was also the name of one of Jenna Jameson's co-stars. In case you're wondering, as far as I know Jenna is not in any way assoicated with the state of Kentucky. I made one crack about her and now I'm stuck with this. It's an unfortunate cycle, but it should clear up soon. Just like Jenna's...

DAMMIT!!!

The highest point in Kentucky is on Black Mountain, at 4,154' above sea level.

IF YOU'RE IN KENTUCKY YOU SHOULD: Well, I'd probably go poke around in the caves, (must...not...beat...joke), but I've never been to Kentucky and wouldn't really know. I have friend who grew up in Kentucky who tells me everyone should go to the Derby once in their lives. So far I'm progrssing well without it, but if I were to find myself in kentucky on the first Saturday in May I might wander over. Fort Knox is also in Kentucky. You could down a quart of bourbon and test the security there. Let me know how it works out.

MISS KENTUCKY LOOKS LIKE THIS: Apparently they avoid the sun in Kentucky.

EDITOR'S NOTE!!!!

And sometimes, before or after doing cocaine, getting drunk and making out with a Miss Teen USA contestant, Miss Kentucky looks like this

Tara Conner, Or she would if that were actually her in the picture. That's not Tara Conner in that photo. My bad. Apparently that's Katie Blair there in the middle, who Tara allegedly made out with at one point. But not in that picture. Which I'm still leaving up. Because I'm a perv.

LIMPY'S CONNECTION TO STATE: I know one person from Kentucky. He's not in a hurry to go back either. Other than that, none.

HAS LIMPY EVER GOTTEN LAID IN THIS STATE: No.

Next up: Louisiana, Now 35% dryer!

Kentucky's Gonna Kill Me

2008-05-02T07:28:00.000-07:00

Although given what I've written about the other states they're probably not all that upset that I'm stalled on there chapter. Assuming anyone in Kentucky actually has a computer.

As you know, thanks to my publicist and blogging conscience Tysgirl, yesterday was my birthday. I am now 39. Woo-hoo.

I spent the morning knocking off a couple of depositions, then went to the casino for some poker. I play $1-$2 no-limit Hold 'Em, which is a lot of fun to play and incredibly boring to listen to stories about, so I'll spare you any exciting tales of what I did in each situation based on the cards in my hand, on the table, and my own incredible powers of observation. All we need to say about that is that I was there for 4+ hours and lost about $60. I also found out you can get a 15 minute back rub from a professional masseuse for $20, which means I probably should have spent that $60 for 45 minutes of a back massage. Live and learn.

But the most interesting thing was watching the big guy named Brian who was sitting acrss from me the whole time. When I arrived the waiting list for a seat at a $1-$2 table was ten deep, so they opened a new table for the 10 of us. made me feel special. So I saw Brian in action from the time I sat down until the time I left. He told us early on that he'd been up for 30+ hours, had played in a tournament earlier in the week and was now playing cash games to kill time until his bus left, at about 8 pm, at which time he would hopefully pass out for the entire ride home.

Now here's the thing. If you're playing cards, they have waitresses that come around to the table about every 20 minutes, and they'll take your drink order and bring you the drink. AND IT'S FREE!!!! Whatever you order, it's free. You usually tip a buck to make sure she keeps coming back, but otherwise, whatever you want to drink, you can get for $1. I get water or juice, since my drunken card-playing would have us in the poor house in no time. I was sort of pissed off to discover, just as I was leaving, that you can get chocolate milkshakes too. I never even thought of that. I love chocolate milkshakes!! For $1 each I'dve probably put myself in a diabetic coma within two hours.

Brian, however, isn't as much a fan of water or milkshakes as he is off booze. During the 4+ hours I was there he must have had 8-10 shots of various forms of booze. Jack Daniels, Crown Royal, Southern Comfort, sterno, whatever he could think of, he'd order. And they'd bring it to him. The only rule they have is that you can only get one at a time. Which is pretty easy to deal with when you're going to see the waitress every twenty minutes. I've sat at bars and had less frequent service.

As the afternoon wore on, Brian got louder. Hard to believe, I know, but not in an obnoxious way. He kept daring people to bet more money, kept throwing more money into the pot to build things up, and by the time I left to go meet my wife for dinner, (she paid; I had a "game dinner" of venison, pheasant and sausage, as well as an oyster stew. I don't need to eat for another three days.), had lost about $500. And he seemed perfectly OK with it.

The moral of the story is if you're going to skip work and play cards, try to sit at the table with the happy alcoholic with the gambling problem. Hopefully he got home OK, but I suspect he's still snoozing in the back of the bus, now parked at the terminal.

Fine, YOU Try Saying "No" To Tysgirl

2008-04-23T11:47:00.000-07:00

For some time now, Tysgirl, (linked to on your right as "Big Bundle of Fuck Me"), has been after me to do a list of '100 Things About Me'. I've been putting her off, telling her that I view it as something that everybody does and isn't all that creative, when the reality is that I'm just too fucking lazy to commit to such a project. However, Tysgirl is the sea that crashes relentlessly upon the mighty rocks, gradually wearing them down until they turn to sand. And since I wasn't all that mighty to begin with, here we are.

Get ready for the longest list you've ever slogged your way through.

1. I am right-handed. Not that this is at all interesting, (although that lack of interest will probably be a prevailing theme throughout this list), but aways back someone tagged me to write 8 things about me, and that's the one I started with. Consistency may indeed be the hobgoblin
of little minds, but I've always had a soft spot for hobgoblins.

2. I have a very good singing voice, assuming you enjoy the sound of a cat being raped. And who doesn't enjoy that? Besides the cat.

3. My favorite color is royal purple. In a related note, I am very secure with my sexuality.

4. If I am ever fortunate enough to run over Ann Coulter with my car, the only reason I would slow down is to make sure she heard me yell, "Take that cunt!"

5. That goes double for you Fred Phelps. Except I'd probably call you a "closeted fag" I like to make my derogatory name-calling fit the situation. It seems more civilized.

6. Thanks to a dedicated regimine of abdominal exercises, sometimes including up to 500 repetitions a session, I have rock-hard, well-defined abs. Thanks to an equally dedicated regimine of donuts and beer, I am able to protect those same abs with a thick layer of insulating blubber. But they're under there, trust me.

7. I have two tattoos. I have a third planned.

8. I used to have a pierced ear, but it kept getting infected. This is probably because a friend of mine pierced it by ramming the earring through my earlobe after "disinfecting" it in a glass of sambuca. Yes, I was drunk, why do you ask?

9. I've been married for 13 years. She has introduced me at weddings as "This is my first husband". Bitch.

10. I have two children. There will not be a third.

11. I cannot imagine living a full life without a big dog in it.

12. If I'm watching NASCAR, it's for the crashes.

13. The last book I read was "You Suck" by Christopher Moore. Knocked it off in one day. It is a sequel to his book "Bloodsucking Fiends", which I've also read. I recommend each book very highly, but only if you enjoy bitterly humorous books about sex, San Francisco, vampires, blue hookers and late-night frozen turkey bowling. Which should be pretty much all of you.

14. Christopher Moore did not pay me for #13, but I'd take his money if he did.

15. My favorite sport is baseball. My favorite team is the New York Yankees. My favorite player growing up was Don Mattingly. My favorite player of all time who died long before I was born and got a disease named after him is Lou Gehrig.

16. My favorite food would be hard to pin down, but on a consistent basis I'd have to say it would be a deep dish white pizza with sausage, eggplant and mushroom. Not least because no one else in my family likes mushrooms and therefore I am left alone to eat in peace.

17. In the warmer months. In the winter/colder months

18. Any time.
for some reason this won't line up correctly, but after finishing these bottles I don't think I can really be blamed for screwing up the margins here.

19. I spent two and a half years shoveling shit on a chicken farm to help pay for college. I've collected eggs, culled chickens and slaughtered turkeys. And I still eat poultry.

20. I am not a member of PETA.

21. My favorite band is The Supersuckers. I once read a review of one of their albums as "whiskey-fueled, hell-bound, tattooed rock and roll" Pretty much sums it up. Generally speaking I like loud bands with an emphasis on the guitar and who are still unknown enough to play in bars and smaller venues.

22. I can't see any point in paying $100+ to go to a stadium to see a band, I don't care if it The Rolling Stones. Stay home and watch it on TV; you'll be closer to the band and you won't get arrested for smoking pot.

23. I haven't smoked pot
since law school, (there's an advertisement for law school!), but for the life of me I can't see why it's illegal to smoke a joint but perfectly legal to drink a bottle of Jack Daniels.

24. I couldn't tell you what my favorite movie is, but if I had to divide it up by type, I'd have to say Slapshot or Bull Durham for sports, Unforgiven for westerns, ("deserve's got nuthin to do with it" has to be one of the best lines ever), and Roadhouse for comedy. Wait, Roadhouse isn't a comedy? You're shitting me. I laugh myself hoarse every time I watch that one. There are many other great ones out there, but "Miami Vice" isn't one of them.

25. I'm no world traveler like Party Girl, (not yet anyway), but of the cities I've visited, San Francisco
is probably my favorite, followed closely by New Orleans.

26. My least favorite cities are probably Miami and Los Angeles. In fact, if I were allowed to blow shit up, (and for obvious reasons, I'm not), I'd probably tell the residents of LA and Las Vegas, (where I've never been), to start running while I solve the west's water probelms.

27. I am a huge pain in the ass to travel long distances with. I don't stop unless urine is actually coming out my ears, and I don't care that much about your ears. I drive until I get there, and if I'm flying and have to deal with layovers I'm just an asshole. Which should make our upcoming trip to Disney a fun experience for everyone.

28. Oh yeah, I once won on Jeopardy!, but you knew that. And Alex Trebek seems like an obnoxious prick in person too.

29. The highest I've ever been, (literally as opposed to metaphorically), is when I climbed to 12,600 feet in Yosemite Park. I beleive the peak was called Mt. Lewis.

30. If I had to pick one celebrity to fight, I think it would have to be Dr. Phil.

31. Best hot dogs I've ever had can be found here. You have to get them with the relish; otherwise you're missing out on the experience. And if you put ketchup on them I will hit you. What are you, 8?

32. If I had more time, I think I'd like to learn to cook a decent meal. My current repetoire consists of throwing meat on a grill and waiting until it changes color. Sometimes I get real crazy and put olive oil on a piece of fish, wave it over the grill, and call it dinner.

33. I am very impatient and don't like following directions. Instead I prefer to just start whatever project I'm working on and try to finish as quickly as possible. based on past experience, I can tell you that this works much better with trials than it does with putting up a screen door.

34. If I have to wear a tie,
it might as well be colorful. Jerry Garcia ties are my favorites, even though I think the Grateful Dead sucked.

35. I have friends who have run for Congress. Unsuccessfully.

36. I have friends who stripped for a living. Succesfully.

37. I probably donated more money to the latter than the former. And got more out of it.

38. No one I know in the real world knows about this blog. So now's your chance to blackmail me. Except I'll just say 'fuck you' and tell 'em.

39. I'll be 39 in a week. I've noticed that I'm losing interest in birthdays lately. If there's something I want, I usually just buy it myself.

40. My father and I have the same birthday. He's older.

41. I find that things are much more interesting at 2:30 in the morning than they are at 2:30 in the afternoon.

42. If I were a male prostitute, I would starve to death. Within 4 days.

43. I would much rather have my kids hear The Supersuckers say "fuck" in a good song than that they listen to anything by The Jonas Brothers. I don't get too worked up about language, but bad music drives me nuts.

44. I say 'fuck' a lot.

45. My wife is the sexiest woman I know. And I'm not just saying that because I get to have sex with her. Although that doesn't hurt. I totally do, too.

46. The Bronx Zoo is one of my favorite places. I've been going there for years. I remember when all the apes were stuffed inside in little houses. Now they've got a huge outdoor area to hang out in. I'm not sure if the gorillas are any safer in the Bronx after dark than they would be in the Congo war zone, but they always seem content.

47. I really hate whiny people. Get the fuck over yourself.

48. You know what a really under-rated dessert is? Fresh watermelon.

49. This is the best roller coaster I've ever been on. "Superman" at Six Flags New England. The first time I went on it we were going up the main hill. And up. And up. And up. And so on and so forth. Long enough for me to start thinking, "you know, this may not have been the best idea I've ever had" I've rideen it 3-4 times since, but now I can't take the 90 minute wait in the lines. On a slow day.

50. I recently alphabetized all of my CDs, after getting pissed off that I couldn't find one. Which later turned out to be in my car, but whatever. Now I can find any CD in 30 seconds. As long as I never, ever buy another CD.

OK kids, it's taken me since Tuesday to come up with these 50 fascinating bits of information. So this is looking like a two-parter. Assuming you've read this far and haven't gouged your eyes out. Or just clicked to another site, which would have been easier, and probably less painful. We'll come back to this another time. Besides, I have to get to Kentucky before a bunch of bearded yokels in coonskin caps show up on my lawn with musketry and such. Although that could just be our local Chanber of Commerce now that I think about it.

And How Was Your Weekend?

2008-04-21T08:20:00.000-07:00

One of these days I'll get around to slandering Kentucky. Probably soon. This weekend we had beautiful weather, so naturally we had to spend most of Saturday at a my wife's grandmother's 90th birthday party. Usually my wife plans these things, because a) she's a control freak, and b) because she could whip Martha Stewart's tastefully dressed ass with one hand tied behind her back. But she had no say in this one, which is why things went to hell in a handbasket pretty quick. We probably should have suspected something when we went on the internet, (Thanks Al Gore!)(I stole that from RSG), to find directions for the restaurant, and instead found a bunch of reviews saying how much the place sucked.

and they weren't kidding.

The "banquet", and I use that term loosely, was held in the basement, which looked like something I might have thrown up, (Much like the food! Hey-O!), in an afternoon, and smelled of dampness and shattered dreams. we get in to see three, count 'em three, chafing dishes, set up in one corner. Not a good sign. The bar was cash only, which was no surprise given the past history of those paying for it. I declined, but my wife hit the sauce.

Eventually the grandmother showed up and was shown into the reception area, where she charitably declined to say "Is this what you think of me?" and sat down to the meal. Which consisted on something alleged to be seafood alfredo, a purported chicken marsala that closely resembled things I've seen pumped out of my septic tank, and a green bean salad. The green beans seemed the safest option. There was no other food available to the 10 kids under the age of 12. And we all know what a hit chicken marsala and seafood alfredo is with the under 12 set. While some parents ordered separate dishes for their kids, I just leaned over and whispered to mine, "We're going to McDonlad's after this; just hold tight" and they did. Frankly, McDonald's was the healthier option.

So we milled around for a couple of hours, making awkward conversation and trying to avoid the feral children my sister-in-law is busy raising. Their father announced somewhat proudly, that the youngest was going commando. The youngest also went around grabbing kids asses and at one point threatened to squirt a lemon into my son's eye. I grabbed his hand and took the lemon away, which may have been the first time he's ever been disciplned. I also told my son that if he had to punch the kid in the face, he wasn't going to be punished. Actually, I probably would have rewarded him after the inevitable rabies shots.

As things were winding down, (and by "winding" I mean time seemed to actually stop, stretching 2 hours to 14 days), it was announced that we were all going to a nearby aunt's house to continue the party. This had not been discussed before. I had plans to play Wiffle Ball that afternoon. Sure that sounds like a weak excuse, but at this point if I'd had plans to have an S&M queen slam my nuts in a car door I'd have gone for that option. We got in the car and left tire tracks on the pavement heading north while everyone else went south. There was a potentially awkward moment when we came out of the McDonald's drive-thru just as two car loads of relatives went past on the main road. We were able to avoid detection by swerving into another lane and punching the gas.

Sunday we actually got at the yardwork we'd missed Saturday, taking out a huge, and unfortunately now largely dead, lilac bush in the corner of our yard. We're trying to figure out how best to replace it. My wife, of course, has suggested what sounds like the second coming of the Hanging Gardens of Babylon , whereas I prefer something that will both attract birds and butterflies, and repel the children from the Montessori school next door. Does anyone know if poison ivy attracts birds? I managed to get most of the bush out and cut up into manageable pieces, although if anyone out there wants some lilac wood for their fireplace, there's plenty more left. Only about 9-10 cuts from various thorns and pruning utensils.

Incidentally, if anyone knows anything about getting rid of lawn grubs, I would love to hear some advice. The little fuckers are about to destroy our lawn. I'm willing to consider anything short of kerosene, and even that's negotiable.

To thnak me for all the hard work, my wife took me out to dinner at the casino. Free babysitting, since we've got a friend of ours temporarily living in the basement. She's also been doing our laundry and dishes. I'm starting to see the appeal of serfs. We went to a new Mexican place. Very good food, if slightly over-priced. Pretty much par for the course at the casino. Food's always good, but they're working on the assumption that you just hit a jackpot somewhere. We did gamble a bit afterwards, and I'm happy to announce I've somewhat eased my guilt about America's shabby past-treatment of our Indian brothers.

All in all, we managed to get a lot done after a slow start. Call it a late-inning comeback, the sort of thing I would like to see the Yankees start doing a bit more often. Or at all.

How Do You Spell Hypocrisy? C-A-T-H-O...

2008-04-18T08:25:00.000-07:00

In a news story yesterday, there was a front page story about a Connecticut firm winning the contracts to create the outfits Pope Benedict the XVI, (who bears a somewhat disturbing resemblance to Nosferatu), , and exactly what that entailed. While numbers weren't discussed, some of the details included the use of 1,500 yards of silk, 150 skilled workers for the clothing and metal work for the chalices and miters, (probably not this,
but who knows), and a time table of three months of all-out work to complete all the outfits and accessories before this month's Popepalooza Tour of the States.

In a completely unrelated story, the citizens of the officially Roman Catholic country of Haiti have been forced to resort to eating cookies made up largely of dirt due to mind-bending poverty and hunger.

I'm sure Benedict is a nice guy, and certainly knows how to wear a silk dress to full effect, but come on. I think you may have missed a few of the basic tenets of your religion. And until you folks figure out stuff like that, you'll be more likely to see my ass in Wal-Mart than back in church.

I swear this post isn't at all motivated by bitterness over the pope's use of Yankee Stadium is forcing the Yanks on an 18 day road trip. Well, maybe just a little.

Time Flies

2008-04-15T06:32:00.000-07:00

I just noticed I haven't put anything up here for a good week. I've meant too, but then I realize it's after midnight and I need to go to bed since I can't get away with wandering into work at 11 am anymore. Which is kind of too bad.

Anyhoo, the last week has been a bit hectic. You get your taxes done on time? I still need to mail them today, but I finished them off a day ago. Let's hear it for a $40 federal refund!! Woooooo!!! That's a couple of CDs right there. Maybe half a tank of gas!

And of course, Little League started. And it wouldn't be Little League without the Limpy family turning things into one colossal Mongolian Clusterfuck. Which we did. As you may recall, a couple of years ago the Little League Powers, told my son that, despite the fact that we signed up late, he was on a team. Then two days later changed their minds and said he couldn't play. Which led to me making some phone calls that could charitably be described as unpleasant in nature. Surprisingly, no restraining order resulted, and this year, finding themselves in a pinch, we got a phone call asking if I could step into a sudden breach and manage a team of 9-11 year olds. Which should give you a good idea of how desperate they were for a manager. "Call that guy nicknamed "Limpy", you know, the one who called us a 'group of prize-winning assholes' a couple years back."

Well, I'm a bigger man than that, in more ways than one. What? I've been eating a lot of potato chips lately.
If you believe nothing else I've ever written here, well a), you're probably not far off, but b) take my word for it and get your hands on some Kettle Organic BBQ chips. It's the next best thing to an orgasm in a bag.

I don't know what that means either.

As I was saying before I so rudely interrupted myself, I agreed to manage the little tots, more than likely to a last place finish, teaching them nothing along the way other than a first-rate education as to what vulgarities to use in a given adverse baseball situation. Which is not the most useless thing you can learn. Then I asked who was on the team and they read down the list of kids and it became apparent that there was no way I could manage this team, and more importantly, no way my son could play on it. I can't even go into the reasons why, suffice it to say it had nothing to do with the coaches or the kids, and we're not the kind of parents that worry about our kid playing on a crappy team. And when I explained the situation to the league president, she agreed.

So we had to work a trade. Of 9-11 year olds. A trade. How fucked up is that? Naturally, the other managers, having already started calling their kids, were, according to the president, reluctant to make a trade. So, with her permission, after waiting a week, I called a friend of mine who's managing a team, told him about as much as I could about what was going on, and within 24 hours a 4 player trade had been worked out and my kid was off the first team and on my friend's team, along with another kid, and two kids were sent the other way. I'm not sure if any draft picks were exchanged, or if there are any players to be named later. Maybe we'll throw in a good bat.

Problem solved right?

Wrong.

One of the kids sent from my friend's team to the other team? His parents were the team sponsors. We found this out at the first practice yesterday. I felt pretty bad about that, although apparently he got traded because he was older and it balanced out the ages on the rosters. My wife felt horrible about it and was telling one of her friends about it. Her friend starts laughing her ass off and then stops and says "Oh, were you really upset about this? Because I can wait to start laughing until after we hang up."

So now it looks like, rather than managing a team I'll wind up sponsoring a team, since I'm certainly not about to screw over the other parents. This wasn't their fault, and I know if I put up a couple of hundred dollars to sponsor a team and then my kid got traded off of it before the season started, I'd be thinking about issuing a "stop-payment" on the check.

In other news, I found a new career for Syd. Here's a hint, it involves rubbing this.

One other thing. Natalie Wood is probably about to rise from her watery grave, and no doubt come after me for some of the cracks I've made about her and pools, (even though I know she drowned after falling off a boat and not in a pool), because I won the company NCAA tournament pool this year, coming into an incredible windfall of $65, (between that and the tax refund my ass is retiring!), and therefore I am today buying lunch for the office, leaving it up to the staff to decide from where. They've been trying to figure this out for the last hour. I've put less effort into some of my court arguments, (which would probably explain the results), than they're going through out there. At this rate I'll be buying dinner. Tomorrow.

Georgia: Sherman's Speed Bump

2008-04-08T20:13:00.000-07:00

Chapter 15 in the hopelessly stalled out "Know Limpy's States". Dear god there's 35 more of these fuckers to go.

Georgia is the 4th state, entering the Union on January 2, 1788. It was originally founded by James Ogelthorpe, (no relation to this guy
), in 1733 as a slave-free colony. Suffice it to say, somewhere along the line somebody changed their mind. What the hell, a buck's a buck right? Right? Anyone?

Georgia is known as "The Empire State of the South", for some reason. This book here says it's because the landscape is so rich. Personally, I always thought it was called "The Peach State", but I never wrote a book about the 50 states, just a series of bad blogs about them, filled with historical inaccuracies, complete fabrications and outright slander. When, oh when will the madness end!?

Ahem.

Pretentious nicknames aside, Georgia has a rich history of something or other. I'm nearly sure of it. There must be something besides that 180 they did on the whole slavery thing, and there's gotta be something besides booting out the Creek and Cherokee tribes and forcing them to walk the Trail of Tears. Oh, here's something, the first gold rush in the US was at someplace called Dahlongea, in Georgia, in 1828. Right before the sudden influx of settlers forced out the injuns in 1833.

The more I write these things the more I feel like going to the local reservation casino and blowing a pile of cash on craps.

Georgia does figure prominently in a crucial development in American, nay Western, civilization. No, it's not cotton, or even the Civil War, and it's certainly not the 1996 Summer Olympics. I'm talking of course, about Dr. John Pemberton's invention of Coca-Cola
at an Atlanta pharmacy in 1886, allowing millions of Americans to enjoy the taste of cocaine while sipping a refreshing, yet oddly jittery, soft-drink. At least until 1903 when the spoilsports took it out. I'm sure the massive amounts of water Coke uses to make their fine product, (to which, if it's not clear, I'm kind of addicted to), are behind last year's severe drought in Georgia, during which at one point Atlanta was facing something like it's last 60 days of water. Of course, that could also have been the result of the massive expansion of Atlanta and piss poor planning for the same, but I like to blame drugs for all of the world's problems, so the drought was Coke's fault.

The drought did lead to some promising potential entertainment when some retards in the Georgia legislature, (which for some reason I picture as being held in a run-down chicken coop), made a claim that way back when, someone measured the northern border of Georgia wrong and it should have been a mile or so north. By sheer coincidence, that would have given the access to the Tennessee River. And also would have put Memphis in Mississippi, much to the joy and wonderment of that municipality.

But then it rained again and everyone forgot about it and built more houses and it'll never happen again and Sweet Jesus when will we ever learn?

During the Civil War, Union General William Tecumseh Sherman meandered through northwest Georgia, distributing candy to orphans and the homeless. Of course, to paraphrase noted historian Steve Martin, he also helped those orphans and homeless get their start, but hey, candy's candy right? Leading to my only story about Georgia and one I'm pretty sure is a lie. Happened to a friend of a friend whose cousin was there and swears it's true. Car load of college kids from the northeast are driving through Georgia on their way to Florida for Spring Break. They get pulled over by a state trooper for speeding. And apparently they were going pretty fast, because the statie says "Son, nobody goes through Georgia that fast" only to hear a voice from the back pipe up "Sherman did"

Sure, good for a laugh, but if anyone here thinks a car load of Yankees would make such a crack to a Georgia state trooper and live to tell anyone about it, well, I have some waterfront property near Atlanta I'd love to sell you.

There are 8,684,715 people in Georgia. 72% of them are currently stuck in traffic outside of Atlanta.

Georgia's state bird is the Brown Thrasher, a smallish bird with a good offense but weak defense and next to nothing in the way of decent goaltending. Seriously, we lose the Whalers, and Atlanta, in fucking Georgia, gets a hockey team and names it after a bird!? Go fuck yourself Gary Bettman. You die and go to hell!

The state flower is the Cherokee Rose, which I'm sure gave great consolation to the Cherokees as they walked the Trail of Tears. On the other hand, it's a nice looking flower and doesn't involve anyone stealing my favorite hockey team, so I perosnally am OK with it. Priorities, shmiorities.

The highest point in Georgia is Brasstown Bald, at 4784' above sea level. More importantly is Springer Mountain, the starting point, (or end point I guess), of the famous Appalachian Trail. Someday I'll schlep along there.

IF YOU'RE IN GEORGIA YOU SHOULD: I have never been to Georgia and wouldn't know. I have friends who moved to Atlanta and say it's great to visit but hell to live there. Savannah's supposed to be nice, but you're reading a guy who'd be more inclined to spend his time poking around in Okeefenokee Swamp
looking for critters, so if I were you I'd go track down Pissy and ask her. She'll know what to do. And you'll look good while doing it. With me you're just going to get muddy and drunk, and possibly eaten by something, and not in a good way either.

MISS GEORGIA LOOKS LIKE THIS: At first glance she's kind of hot, but looking more closely, I can't shake the feeling she's hoarding nuts in those cheeks. And again, not in a good way either.

LIMPY'S CONNECTION TO STATE: Some friends of mine moved there and I never saw them again. Also I like peanuts. That's really it.

HAS LIMPY EVER GOTTEN LAID IN THIS STATE: No. Although when my wife tells me she's not in the mood I do like to say "Frankly my dear. I don't give a damn"

Then she hits me with a shoe.

Next up: Kentucky. The Indigo Grass State. Or something like that.

Don't Say You Weren't Fucking Warned

2008-03-30T21:20:00.001-07:00

Created by OnePlusYou - Free Online Dating

Thanks Zoe.

In other somewhat random observations, Little League is off and running again. I haven't figured out which team my kid was drafted for, (apparently he went pretty high, even though we dropped out of the evaluation due to cold, because some of the coaches had scouted our Fall Ball team. I find this deeply disturbing, yet oddly flattering to my son), but there's a chance that he's on the same team with another kid who has a father who coaches, and that father is my wife's gynecologist. Should make for some interesting dugout conversations anyway.

I noticed in the news that some seal hunters were on a boat that capsized and they drowned during the annual seal hunt up in Canada. My reaction? Good. Can't happen to enough seal hunters. You want to kill an animal and eat it, hey, go for it. Kill it, skin it, wear it and leave the meat to rot? Fuck you, enjoy the bottom of the bay. And that goes for trophy hunters too. Anyone shooting a bear just to mount a trophy might as well walk around with a sign that says "Ask me about my abnormally small penis"

OK, back to work on that cheerful note. Have a good day while I try to think up ways to slur Georgia. The tough part is finding things that aren't true.

Florida: America's Penis

2008-03-27T18:41:00.000-07:00

And judging from the map, we're hung like a rhino! And uncomfortably close to Haiti! Wow, have we learned nothing in health class?

But enough about my phallic obsessions, it's time for Chapter 14 in "Know Limpy's States"!

Florida is the 27th state, entering the union on March 3, 1845. Jews everywhere suddenly felt a strong desire to move south for the winter. Quick, what's a Jewish person's favorite wine? "I wanna go to Miameeeeeeeeeee" Oh, I've got a million of these. Should be a hit at my nephew's upcoming bris.

But we're talking about Florida, not my issues with an integrated extended family.

Flordia is known as "The Sunshine State", although I personally prefer the unoffical nickname, "God's Waiting Room". True, Florida is a state blessed with an abundance of sunshine, but it's also blessed even more by an abundance of little old ladies and men dressed in polyester clothing with colors not found anywhere in nature, wandering about looking for a dinner special at 3 pm, all the while cruising down the road at 28 mph with their turn signal on for a right turn that never seems to come.

Florida is home to some of the best beaches in the world, especially when they're full of drunk twenty-somethings who will show their tits for a quarter. OK, sue me, those aren't tits. I'm kind of an ass man anyway. Every year hordes of college kids descend on Florida beaches for spring break and get drunk and naked and everyone complains about it for two weeks until the kids sober up and leave and the residents can get back to complaining about what's really important, like the hordes of Cubans and Haitians descending on the beaches.

Actually, the latter are probably more likely to work than the former, so I don't see what the fuss is.

I was supposed to go to spring break one year. Then at the last minute the guy with the car lit out for Costa Rica. Prick.

Florida tops the nation in producing sugar and citrus fruit and ranks second in tomatoes, strawberries, cocaine imports, greenhouse and nursery products, and may lead the world in bales of marijuana washing up on shore.

There are 17,019,068 people in Florida. In 1959, there were 2.8 million. Think about that for a minute. 50 years ago, across that entire dangling peninsula, there were less than 3 million people. Today, more than 17 million people. Isn't that amazing? One has to ask oneself, "how is it possible to do that in an environmentally responsible way, especially considering the high water table?" And the answer is "You don't!" Nope, you just build dams and levees and strip malls and cities and strip malls and roads and bridges and strip malls and trailer parks and great big over-priced theme parks based on vermin HEY KIDS!
and strip malls and housing developments and senior centers and golf courses and then, for good measure, throw in some strip malls.

As a result, Georgia and Alabama, at a minimum, will probably declare war on Florida in the next couple of decades over water rights. Also I hate strip malls.

Florida is also a vacation destination for millions of people every year. This year, that will include yours truly, who is being dragooned onto taking the kids to Fucking Disney World. Truly, my cup runneth over. After that we'll go stay with friends on the west coast and I'll look for alligators in the swamps. Yes you read that correctly. No I'm not kidding. This year I'm hoping to shoot a bull.

I'm kind of upset thought; apparently you're no longer allowed to bait them with NASCAR radio broadcasts as that's no longer considered "sporting" Pussies. (Note that the caption to the photo was supposed to say "Bull Gator With a Mullet", which makes this picture a lot funnier)

Florida's state bird is the mockingbird, which gives Alabama something else to be pissed off about besides all that water. What, the flamingo wasn't good enough? Actually, if someone in Florida had a sense of humor they'd make the official state bird the "Northern Snowbird" and put up a picture of a couple of dorks in bermuda shorts, black socks and a "South of the Border" T-shirt. On a related note, I'll be in Florida this year.

The state flower is the orange blossom, which kind of makes sense. Since they ripped out all of the other plants for the orange groves. Although I love orange juice, so fuck those other plants.

The highest point in Florida is Britton Hill, near Alabama, and 345 feet above sea level. Did I mention that Florida is the lowest state? I didn't? Well, it is. My concerns about global warming are somewhat eased by thinking about people like Donald Trump watching their mega-million dollar oceanside estates become so much flotsam. Then I giggle. It's very therapeutic.

IF YOU'RE IN FLORIDA YOU SHOULD: What are you, an idiot? Go to the beach! That's what it's there for. There's no reason at all to go into the middle of the state, unless you like strip malls and trailer parks. In which case, welcome to paradise Fuck-o, here's your camera! I enjoy poking around in the swamps and kayaking through the estuaries, (and showing off my vocabulary by typing words like "estuaries", even when I'm not 100% what they are). If you go in the spring, you can watch srping training baseball. If you go in the summer, you can watch 'A' league baseball, which is so bad that you'll think you could do better. You'll be wrong about that, but you can ease the pain of your athletic ineptitude with $1 Sam Adams beers, and that makes it all worthwhile. Of course, you should go to Key West
for any reason at all, or for no reason, as Key West is pretty much the greatest place on earth. With the exception of all the goddamn Jimmy Buffett stuff all over the place. I grew to hate that man while I was down there, although most of that hatred could proably be better described as seething jealousy at his being able to turn a life of alcohol, beaches and fairly craptacular music into a multi-million dollar empire. But other than that, Key West is just friggin' awesome.

MISS FLORIDA LOOKS LIKE THIS:

I'm thinking she didn't win.

This looks to have been a better year.

LIMPY'S CONNECTION TO THE STATE: Like everyone else, I've got elderly relatives stashed away in Florida. We have friends that relocated to the coast and we'll sponge off of them for free lodging when we go on vacation every now and again. I honeymooned in Key West. I love the swamps and beaches in Flordia and hate the cities and over-development. It's one of the most beautiful places I know and fast on it's way to becoming an ugly shit-hole. I hope they figure it out.

Also I had a near-death experience while swimming in the ocean in Florida. I was bored and ecided to swim out about 150 yards or so to a buoy. Evey now and then I'd pick my head up to get a bead on the buoy. I was drawing pretty close when I looked up and saw, a little ways out from the buoy, a black, triangle-shaped fin disappear into the water. I turned around and slowly swam back in, trying to make as little splashing as possible and hoping sharks can't smell shit. I made it to the beach and walked over towards my wife who said

"Wow, you were pretty close to that dolphin"

The next day I was in the water again, albeit closer to shore, and was able to swim with two wild dolphins, if by "swim" one means "get close enough to two dolphins to see the scars on their back while they cheerfully ignore you" Still one of the coolest things I've ever done.

HAS LIMPY GOTTEN LAID IN THIS STATE: Yes indeed. More than once even.

Next up: Georgia: Can We Borrow A Cup Of Water?

And Now A Word From Our Sponsor

2008-03-21T20:50:00.000-07:00

Our sponsor, of course, would be me. Because I refuse to sell out and let this blog become a corporate shell of itself. Because I have pride, dignity, integrity, and mostly, a blog so bad that no one in their right minds would pay dollar one to sponsor the fucking thing. Truth be told I'd pimp this fucker out in a heartbeat for the price of a decent cheeseburger and milkshake combo.

As some of you, (and by some I mean one. Say hello Tysgirl), have noticed I haven't been popping up as much as I used to. Until recently, I'd cruise around all my links, and some links I hopped to from other links, and some from those links, and some Cambodian porn sites that I'd rather just forget about, many times a day. I'd leave witty, (obnoxious and poorly edited) comments strewn about the internet like so many used condoms in the New York governor's office.

Seriously, even the blind guys getting more tail than me. What the hell?

Well, the reason is fairly simple. I have a job now. For the last 8+ years I worked for one company. When I started we worked like rabid beavers, handling 120+ cases each, trying 10-15 a year, and for some reason, foaming at the mouth and chewing a lot of wood for some weird dam project down south. I never really understood that last part. But for the last couple of years, things tailed off. By the end, I was routinely coming into work no earlier than 11 and leaving by 4:30. And more than keeping up with my diminishing case load. And also finishing off the dam with some tender young saplings.

Most people would consider that a dream job, and for awhile I did as well. Let's face it, getting paid full-time to work part-time doesn't suck. It also doesn't last. I've said this before, and again, I hope I'm wrong, but I don't think that job is going to be around in two years. I know they're not trying to fill my position, (although really, who could? he said, puffing out his pale, scrawny chest and blinding three people), and that's probably not really a good sign to anyone else there. So basically, I made the decision that I was too young to retire and it was time to get a real job.

So I did and the hell of it is, the fuckers want me to work. And I have the caseload now that most of my time is spent dealing with the law, and less randomly cruising the internet looking for ways to make my cock get bigger. Or just big. Whichever. Also I have a new computer system to figure out, new email to figure out, (damn thing has already resulted in three conferences with the Help desk, and now there's some other warning popping up. Something is "corrupt" I've been told, and for once it isn't me), and just in general I don't think it's a good idea for the new guy to spend a lot of time fucking off. There'll be plenty of time for that next month.

But I do generally make some rounds late at night. So I'm around, just kind of tired and somewhat less inclined to type. Things will pick back up, of that I'm sure, I just need to adjust to actually working for a living again. Once I do, this place will rise to the same level of mediocrity you've come to know and tolerate.

Soooooo-eeeeee! Pig, Pig, Pig, Pig!

2008-03-17T20:12:00.000-07:00

But enough about the official song of our next state. It's time to learn all about Arkansas, Chapter 13 in "Know Limpy's States".

Arkansas is the 25th state, entering the Union on June 15, 1836, and then, in perhaps the first documented case of an entire state developing attention deficit disorder, leaving to join the Confederacy in 1861. How'd that work out for you anyway? Arkansas gets its name from the French, who learned of a tribe named for the south wind which was spelled, in French anyway, "Arkansas", but pronounced Oo-ka-na-sa, so now you know why Arkansas is pronounced differently from Kansas. I, for one, will sleep better tonight.

The territory that would become Arkansas first became part of the US with the Lousiana Purchase. Arkansas was such a desirable territory that Lewis and Clark made sure to start their expedition to chart the new lands out of Missouri, thereby ensuring they'd never have to look at anything actually in Arkansas.

Which is too bad, becuase they missed such neat stuff as Crater Diamonds State Park, where the public is actually allowed to wander about and keep any diamonds they find, which is an interesting way of ensuring that a state's natural resources are preserved for generations to come. Most parks I know of subscribe to the motto "take nothing but photographs, leave nothing but footprints", but apparently in Arkansas it's "Fuck it, bring a pick-axe and grab whatever you can."

Arkansas has a town called Hope, which you've no doubt heard of ad nauseum, as it produced a former president and lover of blow-jobs and a recently running for president and a thinks-the-constitution-should-be-amended-to-reflect-the-bible troglodyte who was running for president until people starting actually listening to him, whih is pretty neat for a town so small it doesn't seem to appear on the map of Arkansas in this book. Either that or I just can't see it due to failing eyesight after years of mastur----, uh, reading in poor light and watching TV too close.

-whew-

(I just found it. It's in the southwest corner)

Arkansas also had a heartwarming role to play in the Civil Rights movement, requiring an actual invasion of federal troops to make sure black kids could go to high school with white kids. Sort of like Boston but with less busing or violence.

Arkansas is known as "The Natural State", due in no small part to its apparent committment to the environment as exhibited in its "Take Whatever You Want" approach to state parks, or possibly the fact that its pretty much still in the same natural state its been in since the Stone Age. Here we see a photo of the Arkansas Open from 2006.

Arkansas's state bird is the mockingbird. For a useful guide on how to kill these pests, click here. Boo Radley, incidentally, later was elected a Senator from Arkansas.

The state flower is the apple blossom. It probably should be rice, since Arkansas produces 45% of the US rice crop every year. Arkansas is apparently pretty soggy.

The highest point in Arkansas is atop Magazine Mtn in the Ozarks, some 2,753 feet above sea level, or approximately the same altitude that Maggie starts running uphill in Montana.

There are 2,725,714 people in Arkansas. Most try to claim they're from Missouri or Louisiana.

IF YOU'RE IN ARKANSAS YOU SHOULD: While I read here that the whitewater rafting and hiking, (and apparently the amateur diamond mining), are real draws, if I were ever to go to Arkansas, (and as you can clearly tell by my idiotic rambling here, I haven't), it would be to go to Bentonville and burn down the Wal-Mart headquarters.

MISS ARKANSAS LOOKS LIKE THIS:
Holy Crap! Clearly I've underestimated the powers of Ozark inbreeding!

LIMPY'S CONNECTION TO STATE: Absolutely none, other than spreading vile and unsubstantiated rumors about it just now. Except for that one about Wal-Mart. I fucking hate Wal-Mart.

HAS LIMPY EVER GOTTEN LAID IN THIS STATE: No, and that's not likely to chnage after this little opus. Which is sort of too bad judging by the quality of former Miss Arkansas.

Up Next: A less than thrilling ride through Florida, where I'll pick up some much needed electoral votes.

Future Plans

2008-03-14T13:05:00.001-07:00

Powerball, one of the multi-state mega-lotteries, is up to $275 million (that's like $185 million Euros!) for Saturday's drawing. I bought two tickets instead of my usual one, so I'm pretty much a shoo-in. Lasy night I let my wife know that if I win I am going to hire a $5,500 an hour hooker,
just to see what they do that justifies the price.

My wife said that if we, (notice she changed "I" to "we"? No dummy she), win $275 million, I can go ahead and hire a hooker. So as far as I'm concerend we have a legally binding agreement. You'd all better keep your fingers crossed, because I will definitely let you all know what she does to justify $5,500 an hour.

My only real concern, (aside from disease, arrest, loss of whatever shreds of dignity I may still have), is what we're going to do for the other 45 minutes.

Coming soon:
Arkansas!

No really, I mean it this time.

Cue Sunset

2008-03-10T12:42:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow is my last day at work. I was going to get to Arkansas today, even to the extent of bringing the book I'm using for research, (which you should understand to mean "plagiarize"), in to the office with me. But with less than 48 hours to go, (considerably less if I have anything to say about it), I'm spending all of my time, (except now), making sure to tie up loose ends and really try to make sure there is nothing in my office that needs doing before I leave. Obviously I can't settle every case, but I will make sure all the reports are up to date. It looks like I'll actually make that by tomorrow, so that's cool.

Of course, tomorrow will be interrupted by a good-bye luncheon, which I thought I had rather emphatically made clear I did not want. You may not have picked up on this, but I'm not a particularly sentimental type of fellow. I believe the answer I gave was "If we have some maudlin fucking good-bye ceremony somebody is going to eat their own balls" Well,we are. Maybe my mistake was using the term "maudlin" and leaving room for interpretation. Perhaps I should have substituted "any". So now we are, and not wanting to break my word on my last day here, someone's going to have to eat their own balls. Fortunately we're having Chinese so no one will notice. Well, almost no one anyway. One guy noticing is probably inevitable.

Because I know you love it, more musical recommendations. Lately I've really been into The Heartless Bastards a really good garage-rock type band out of Ohio. The singer
has an amazing voice, kind of quirky, but I can't get enough of it. Sort of like my problem with crack, but that's really none of your business now is it? I've also been listening to The Hangdogs
as much as possible as well. They're described as a "drunken alt-country band out of NYC, intent on either personal salvation ot damnation", so they were a sure bet. Unfoturnately they're now longer together and it's kind of hard to get their music, (legitmately anyway), but if you can find it, give it a lesson. My personal favorite is "The Gun Song", which is either pro-gun control, anti-domestic violence or both. Not to give away the ending but with a closing line like "and she blew a hole right through that fucker's heart" and a chorus that that goes

Actually, fuck it, here's the whole song. Sing it in kind of a country type twang. it'll help if you're sort of drunk while you do it. Hopefully this doesn't get me sued, but since I'm trying to get people to buy music from a great if apparently defunct band, it's worth the risk.

THE GUN SONG

he was drunk depressed and crazy when he bought himself the gun
over the counter in some pawn shop on south main
one feel of that cold steel and he gratefully unwadded
the last fifty dollars to his name

he walked back to the subdivision, into the house
all excited to show her his new gun
she stopped packing right away when he put it to her head and told her
"the thing is, i still love you, hon."

CHORUS (Editor's Note: cheerful isn't it? When I renew my wedding vows this song's in the running for the first dance)

see your reflection in the blue steel and it's too late to run
the romance was gone with that first bruise
see, cupid don't shoot arrows out the barrel of a gun
and love don't make the ten o'clock news

she waited till he passed out, then she dashed her cigarette out
in the crumpled pile of her old wedding gown
she thumbed a ride to fredericksburg got a car there at the hertz
and she stopped into a pawn shop west of town

he tracked her credit card to clovis just to tell her he still loved her
he found her waiting tables in some bar
she smiled, said "oh darlin," slid her hand beneath her apron
and she blew a hole right through that fucker's heart

CHORUS

they acquitted her on grounds of the gun in his cold hand
still she ain't smiled once since that bloody day
they UPSed back both the guns, inherited and owned
so she sold em in some pawn shop on south main

CHORUS
see, cupid don't shoot arrows out the barrel of a gun
and love don't make the ten o'clock news

Trust me, it's a great tune. Listen to The Heartless Bastards and The Hangdogs. You'll be a better person for it.

And if I tell you I don't want a going away party, listen to me. We'll both be better off. Now where are those damn scissors?

Oh I Wish I Were In The Land Of Cotton

2008-03-05T08:04:00.000-08:00

but then the boll weevils showed up in the 1930's and now I'm stuck in fucking Alabama!

Chapter 12 in "Know Limpy's States", which is now virtually rocketing along while I studiously ignore Tysgirl's request for a "100 Things About Me" entry. Really, how entertaining would it be to read "I lie about the size of my penis" 100 times?

Alabama is the 22nd state, entering the Union on December 14, 1819. Originally settled by the French, the region was named after the Indians in the area, who called themselves "Alibamu", which I'm sure means something other than "Yes, thank you, we'd like nothing better than to have you kick our asses, violate several treaties and then force us to move to Oklahoma", but that's pretty much exactly what happened to them within 21 years of Alabama joining the US.

At any rate, after establishing a European settlement at Mobile Bay, the French lost the territory to the British in the French and Indian War. You can read all about that war here, (actually, you probably need to buy the book; staring at the order page isn't going to help), where you will learn vast amounts about the Iriquois, the early colonies,European politics, why you shouldn't build forts near Pittsburgh when you know goddamn well the French are out there and are buddies with pretty much every single Indian group in a 100 mile radius, and all sorts of other neat stuff, but you won't learn a single thing about Alabama because no one cared about it at the time.

Alabama, the original "player to be named later".

At any rate, once Andrew Jackson defeated the Creek Indians in the War of 1812, rising demand for cotton and Alabama's fertile conditions for producing the stuff, led to immigration from Tennessee and Georgia, as though anyone needed an excuse to leave those areas back before electricity. Some people came less willingly than others, but, much like Rhode Island, let's all close our eyes and pretend slavery never happened.

Alabama, feeling her oats, (or her cotton as the case may be), seceded from the Union in 1861. 15,000 dead Alabamians later, Alabama was back in the Union, like it or not. The good news, such as it was, was that thanks to General Sherman's efforts during the unpleasantness, there was a large demand for building materials, and Alabama soon launched its iron and steel industry. Its largest city, Birmingham, soon became known as "The Pittsburgh of the South", probably because they both make a lot of steel. Pittsburgh would have sued for defamation, but no one there could read at the time.

Of course, you can't talk about Alabama without talking about buses. And you can't talk about buses without talking about that uppity Rosa Parks. As we all know, (except in Rhode Island where we pretend we just happened to be selling rum in Africa and we gave this one guy a ride in our boat and next thing we know he's clapped in chains in some southern port and we don't know nuthin' about nuthin' anyway), the US used to have slaves. Not just in the south, but all over the place. Then the north indutrialized and realized it was even cheaper to use Irish and sort of phased things out. But the south kept using slaves because their economy was primarily agricultural, and required outside work, and let's face it, Irish people sunburn like there's no tomorrow. This led to two things. First, when a primiarily agricultural region gets in a war with a primarily industrial region, the agricultural region is going to get pummeled eventually no matter how bad the former's generals are. And second, after a hundred years or so of slavery, race relations are not going to be what they should be.

Which brings us to 1955. Alabama, and in fact many states, had segregated buses. Blacks had to give up their seats for white folk if required. Indians couldn't even get on the bus since they'd all been sent to Oklahoma in the 1830's. So one day Rosa Parks got on a bus. Legend has it that she's worked a long day and her feet were tired. I've since read she was actually doing this deliberately, but it really doesn't matter. She sat down. Some white douchebag demanded her seat. Rosa eloquently told him to get fucked. She got arrested. A boycott of the buses ensued. The bus segregation stopped. Black people got to vote. Martin Luther King made a speech saying he had a dream that, unlike my dreams, could be repeated in public. Schools got desegregated. Water fountains got desegregated. All was well and an era of peace and racial harmony descended on the land and then gay people started clamoring to get married and fucked it all up for everyone.

Or something like that. Anyway, long story short, there's an issue with race in the south. And indeed the whole country. And for that matter the entire world. It's not funny, but Alabama played a crucial role in bringing that whole ugly issue to the forefront, forced a confrontation which wasn't always pleasant, and led to at least some degree of improvement. So it bore mentioning. But I'm not going to bring it up again and when we get to Mississippi and Georgia I won't be making lynching jokes because those just aren't fucking funny. Fortunately, inbreeding, rickets, illiteracy and general dumbassery are funny, so there's plenty of fertile ground to be plowed there.

Alabama is called "The Heart of Dixie". Because it's in the middle of the South dumbass.

Alabama's state bird is the Northern Flicker. Does anyone else see the irony here? Damn carpetbagging birds.

The state flower is the Camellia. I don't know what that is, but here's a picture.
Tysgirl would take a better one, but then she has a camera that costs more than my car. Which may have been built in Alabama for all I know.

The highest point in Alabama is Cheaha Mountain, in the Talladega National Forest. For some reason there are two Talldega National Forests in Alabama. The one with the mountain is closer to the eastern border. The Talladega Raceway is (probably) in Talladega, a city between the two parks. You can watch people drive really fast in circles for hours there, or you could climb a mountain. I'll take the moutain.

There are 4,500,752 people in Alabama. All of them know how to make grits. And every single one of them will tell you that everyone else's grits taste like shit. Also, 2,250,326 of them root for Auburn football and 2,250,326 of them root for the Crimson Tide of Alabama and every year there's a football game between the two that makes the Civil War pale in comparison. And no one else in the country gives a shit.

Roll Tide!

IF YOU'RE IN ALABAMA YOU SHOULD: Having spent all of one week in Alabama, and that week confined to Birmingham, clearly I am an expert in all the things you should do in Alabama. If you're like me, you'll spend your time sitting in an outdoor hot tub, drinking beer and cursing the fact that you're stuck in Birmingham. If you have more initiative, you could visit the Civil Rights Museum. You could send your kids to the US Space Camp in Huntsvile. You could visit scenic Dismals Canyon, (that's what it says in the book anyway), one of the few virgin forests, (or for that matter, virgin anything) in the state. Apparently Aaron Burr hid out there after shooting Alexander Hamilton. I had a friend from Alabama tell me that the Gulf Shore has some nice beaches. She called it "The Redneck Riviera". Or you could do what everyone else does and stand outside with your lighter raised in the air yelling "Freebird" at the top of your lungs.

MISS ALABAMA LOOKS LIKE THIS:
Yes, southern women do seem to take the whole beauty pageant thing a lot more seriously than the rest of the nation. But since they can pretty much get laid just by using their accents, who's gonna complain?

LIMPY'S CONNECTION TO THE STATE: For the last 8-9 years I've worked for a company based in Birmingham. I had to spend a week there once for a training exercise/competition. I spent most of that week confined to a warehouse or hotel. I was also drunk a good deal of the time. I won the competition and gave an acceptance speech standing unsteadily on a table in an Outback restaurant. I am told that the speech was both hilarious and somewhat-less-than-gracious, but I could not tell you for sure. Other than that, I have no connection to 'Bama.

HAS LIMPY EVER GOTTEN LAID IN THIS STATE: No, although my wife came very close to flying down during that week, and I would have paid for the ticket twice over, and then I could have said "yes". And by the way Pug, I've done the electoral math, and unless I get some serious traveling in, I think I'm stuck in the 170's.

Up next, Arkansas. Put up your feet and whittle some!

Now I've Gone And Done It

2008-03-03T10:08:00.000-08:00

OK, so I was going to slander Alabama this weekend, or at the very least point out that the whole region down yonder there will soon be engaged in a second civil war over water rights and that, if the rest of us play our cards right, we can turn the whole state into a sort of "Mad Max" theme-park. But then I decided to quit my job instead.

Since I left law school, I've worked for 5 firms/companies in 14 years. Which means that I am either a)gloriously incompetent, b)an incredible asshole who can't get along with anyone for more than a year or so, c)somewhat restless and determind to get as much money for my work as I possibly can, or d) all of the above.

If you guessed d, well, fuck you! I am not an asshole!

The early years were basically me hopping from the first job that paid really well, (really, really well) but provided me with no experience and a definite ceiling to any earning potential, to another job working for an all-but-certified lunatic, (lasted 8 months and the last two of those he was on notice that I was leaving but I agreed to stay so he didn't have to cancel his wedding. That woman, incidentally, should be canonized immediately), to a great job that I lvoed until we started having kids and realized what things cost, to another job that paid well but where I was doomed pretty much from Day 1 when I laughed at a senior partner, to this job, where I've toiled for the last 8-9 years.

The decision was not easy. I like the people I work for. They pay well and the benefits are very good. Truth be told the benefits are probably better than where I'm going, but my kids don't really need braces anyway. The pay is comparable, although at least at first I may make a little less. At my present job I pretty much have carte blanche to come and go as I please. I run the office when the main guy isn't here. Hell, I have access to the checkbook, which shows remarkably poor judgment on someone's part. Anyone want a ride in a Porsche? (Seriosuly, it just took me three tries to spell Porsche, which should tell you just how unfamiliar I am with luxury cars.)

So why leave and start over? The official reason is the commute and travel. We moved our office recently, and while I have a kick ass view of a pond with ducks and geese, (some of them dead), and snow-covered hills, it's significantly farther away from my house. It's just becoming a pain in the ass to drive that far twice a day. Also, we cover the entire state, and most of our business, for whatever reason, for the last couple of years, seems to have shifted downstate. That means frequently driving 130 miles just to attend a 30 minute court conference, and let me tell you, that gets old real fucking fast. Mostly though, I've become, over the last couple of years, increasingly concerned about the overall direction the company is taking in Connecticut. I don't see a committment to increase business here, and I've seen a dramatic drop-off in my workload. While that's great for a general screw-off like me in the short-term, in the long-term I'm not as optimistic about where this job will be.

Regarding that issue, I want to be wrong about that. I want this firm and the people I'm leaving behind to see things pick-up and stay busy and more importantly, get paid like they deserve. I will truly miss them and this place. But I can't ignore my own thoughts, and they're telling me its time to move on to the next phase. And so it goes.

So for the next week and a half, (I gave two weeks notice but I have about 40 hours of carry-over personal time from the last 9 years and I'm using some of it), I'll be trying to make sure that my files aren't a complete horror show for whichever poor bastard inherits them. And, of course, trying to kite as many checks as I can.

EDITOR'S NOTE: I just filled out my exit survey. How much does anyone what to bet that that was the first survey that ended with a quote from Douglas Adams? For the insatiably curious, the quote was "So long, and thanks for all the fish"

If The Mountains Are Green, It Must Be Vermont

2008-02-27T20:53:00.000-08:00

and if they're covered with snow, used oxygen bottles and dead bodies, it must be Nepal. But I digress.

It's time for Chapter 11 in "Know Limpy's States" Imagine that. Two chapters in one week. Does the fun ever start?

Vermont is the 14th state, entering the union on March 4, 1791. Apparently they declared independence in 1777 from the British, and for good measure, threw in the other colonies too. Contentious little bastards. There was some talk about joing Canada, but after realizing that joining with Canada meant they would then have to eventually agree to socialized medicine, might-as-well-be-legal pot and a strong commitment to keeping the environment clean, they decided discretion was the better part of valor and stuck with the US. And that's why today Vermont is known as a state with one of the worst environmental records, a strong anti-drug stance and a rock-ribbed Republican political system.

Seriously, what the fuck? Are we sure they didn't join Canada? They're more Canadien than Quebec for Christ's sake!

Prior to the Revolution, New York and New Hampshire actually fought a few battles over who would get Vermont, (Vermont being between them and all), with the famous Ethan Allen leading the fight to join Vermont to New Hampshire. Which made sense because then there would have been one square state instead of two triangles. But then the Revolution got started and everyone realized they could have more fun fighting the British. So Allen and his famous "Green Mountain Boys", (they were this close to going with "Chartreuse Moutain Boys", until someone pointed out how gaytastic that would sound), invaded Fort Ticonderoga and took it from the British. And by invaded I mean "showed up one night while everyone was sleeping and made them give him the keys." Apparently the only musket fired in anger didn't even work.

Vermont is famous for its production of maple syrup, althought thanks to global warming they'll probably soon be famous for their awesome pineapples. They're also famous for their production of marble, and possess both the world's largest granite quarry and the world's largest underground marble quarry. Because I guess it wasn't hard enough to quarry marble from above ground. The marble industry figures prominently in this book, by an author I usually like but who in this book took the precaution of making the narrator such a pussy that I found myself rooting for him to die. But there's some neat stuff in there about marble and how to cut your friend's finger off with a marble saw so he doesn't get drafted, knowledge that may or may not be useful in the future.

Vermont is known as the "Green Mountain State", apparently because the French explorer Samuel de Champlain, the first European to explore the area, called it "Vert mont", which means "green mountain" in French and means Vermont to the rest of us. However, as currently nearly 3/4 of Vermont's electricity is generated by a nuclear power plant in the southeast of the state, perhaps one day the mountains really will glow green all year round.

The state bird is the hermit thrush. Which seems kind of fitting given some of the people I've met up in the northern area of the state. One time I was returning from a trip to upstate New York and was driving my then girlfriend's father's car. It was old and at some point fairly far up north a hose let go, causing us to limp into the next alleged town. We found a gas station that looked like something you see in those movies where the kids break down and then all except the virgin get killed by cannibals. And we didn't even have any virgins with us. But we weren't getting back home without help, so I pulled into Eustus's Gas n' Go and looked for help. Two guys who looked like grizzly bears and smelled like they molested sheep, (don't ask how I know that), came rumbling out and looked at the motor. Within seconds they diagnosed the problem I had missed, (a broken hose spraying water everywhere), produced a new hose and rigged it up to the engine. Then they refused any payment saying "t'weren't nothing". They did however, accept the six-pack I produced from a nearby dry goods store. Then my girlfriend and I fought all the way back to Connecticut. It's a sad story, but the guys in upstate Vermont were really nice and not at all cannibalistic. Which is too bad, because I totally would have let them have the girl for free.

To be fair, at that point she would have done the same to me. And I was meatier.

I don't know what any of this has to do with Hermit Thrushes, except that these guys looked like they could have a few of them in their beards.

The state flower, officially, is the red clover. Judging from the picture I'm looking at it's something I consider a weed when I see it on my lawn. Unoffically, if you've ever been to a Phish concert, the state flower is something else entirely.

The highest point in Vermont is Mt. Mansfield, at 4,393 feet above sea level. I've never climbed it. Partly because I'm lazy and it's several hours away from me, but mostly because it's also a ski resort and it just seems kind of less than a challenge to walk up a ski path in the summer. But one of these days I'll do it.

There are 619,107 people in Vermont. Only Wyoming has less. Which makes sense, because if you had to choose between the state where Ben & Jerry's Ice Cream was invented and the state where "Brokeback Mountain" took place, where are you going?
Here's a funny side-note. Apparently the American Humane Society raised concerns that several sheep were mistreated during the filming of Brokeback, a Wikipedia entry that just begs for some kind of clarification.

IF YOU'RE IN VERMONT YOU SHOULD: Avoid the antique stores. My wife and I went through a few stores while I was up there interviewing for a job. They're not shy about the prices. Lake Champlain is nice. There are a lot of great hiking spots, and I think there's a couple of places that'll rent you skis and let you go down a hill. I wouldn't know, because my dexterity is such that downhill skiing for me would result in my certain demise and the near certain demise of anyone within reach of my flailing ski-poles.

MISS VERMONT LOOKS LIKE THIS:
I'm kind of digging Miss Vermont, and not in the "kind of digging a shallow grave by the side of the road" kind of way either. Although I can't shake the feeling she puts her make-up on with a spatula.

LIMPY'S CONNECTION TO THE STATE: Slim. For some reason I've never spent much time in Vermont, doing most of my climbing and hiking in New Hampshire. I didn't get that job I mentioned above, or else I guess I'd have more of a connection to the state. Just as well; the guy seemd like a dick. I have taken the ferry across Lake Champlain, and did not see the monster alleged to live there. And I've got a good friend, or former good friend, last known to be living in Vermont and now probably in jail up there.

HAS LIMPY EVER GOTTEN LAID IN THIS STATE: I think so. Here's the deal. When I interviewed for that job my wife and I went up the night before and stayed in a motel. Where we got to "know" each other in the Biblical sense if you know what I mean. And if you don't, we had sex OK? But I think that the motel might have been in New Hampshire, just over the state line. But since I need to fill out Pug's electoral college placemat, (see comments about Rhode Island), I'm going to claim it as a "yes". If my election goes to the Supreme Court, Vermont will clearly be my hanging chad.

OK kids, we're done with the northeast. The next section of the country in the book is the southeast. So get ready for a trip to Alabama! Please take your seats in the appropriate section of the bus.

Hi Muffy, It's Tad. Listen, Have Jeeves Pull The Car Around, We're Going To Rhode Island!

2008-02-24T20:19:00.000-08:00

Chapter 10, (holy shit we're 20% done!) in "Know Limpy's States"

Rhode Island is the 13th state, the last of the original colonies to join the Union, ratifying the Constitution on May 29, 1790. The book says that Rhode Island waited so long becuase they steered an independent course in outside affairs, which must be code for "was populated largely by a bunch of unbearably self-important pricks". But then they realized that if they joined the union they could make tons of money selling lumber to the West Indies. rum to Africa, and slaves to the other states. The book glosses over that little passage in history, and the enormous role Newport played in it, in two lines. Giddy up.

Rhode Island also had other concerns revolving around religious freedom. After all, the first white settlements were under Roger Williams, who left Massachusetts to escape religious oprresion from the Puritans, who had left England seeking freedom from religious oppresion from the Anglicans, who started their religion to get out from under the yoke of Catholic oppression, which started when 12 Jews let the business opportunity of all history slip through their fingers. Anybody else think I should write a history of religion?

-crickets-

Also, Rhode Island had concerns about representation in the future government, and their leaders were adamant that some way of representation be devised other than on population. So the Senate was created, giving us an opportunity to see today's senators start investigations into whether or not the Patriots cheated by taping other teams football practices. You know, because there's nothing else important to deal with. Dicks.

Rhode Island's concerns may have been justified as they were then, and are now, the smallest US state, (in size, although as we all know, it's not the size of the state but the motion of the ocean state), and in fact is often mistaken for a suburb of Boston. Which the northern part of the state might as well be anyway.

Rhode Island is known as the "Ocean State" possibly because a large part of the ocean goes right up the middle of it. This creates a body of water called Narragansett Bay, which in turn gave a name, and possibly is the water source for, one of the foulest beers ever created, Narragansett Ale. Seriously, salt water would improve that crap. Also, no point in Rhodae Island is more than half an hour from the ocean. Not that a similar situation is considered a benefit to the good people, and frequently the "former good people", of the low-lying country of Bangladesh.

The state bird is the Rhode Island Red. A chicken. Seriously.

The state flower is the violet, which they stole from New Jersey. Which might give one occasion to worry that New Jersey would whack Rhode Island for stealing their flower, except that Rhode Island has a rich history of putting criminals in power, like Vincent "Buddy" Cianci,
who was mayor of the capital, (Providence), then was forced to resign for doing things like hitting a guy in the head with an ashtray and a fireplace log, then got re-elected, then went to jail for more mundane corruption charges. So I think Rhode Island can keep the violet for now.

The highest point in Rhode Island is Jerimoth Hill, at a whopping 812 feet above sea level. You could get higher than that with skunk weed.

There are 1,076,164 people in Rhode Island. The majority of them are named Tad or Muffy or something that rhymes with Tad or Muffy. They enjoy a good game of tennis, a nice afternoon on the sailboat, and a pleasant evening of cocktails and bitching about how you just can't get good help anymore.

IF YOU'RE IN RHODE ISLAND YOU SHOULD: Not drink anything made by the Narragansett brewery. You should, however, go to a beach. They have some kick ass beaches there. If you feel like being gouged, take a ferry out to Block Island, enjoy the views, the good seafood, the copious amount of available alochol, (and the twenty-something au pairs who are all over the place), and the thirrl of paying about twice what everything is worth. Or you could go to Newport and take a tour of the mansions there, to get an idea of what it might be like to be the kind of person who doesn't care at all what something costs. Providence is also a pretty hopping little town, and a good place to see a band play, or, for the more sophisticated of my readers, (hey, there's probably a lurker or two around), you can go see Providence's "Waterfire" exhibit, where they have a lot of arty things to do and they set a river on fire on purpose.
As opposed to Cleveland, where that sort of thing just kind of happens.

MISS RHODE ISLAND LOOKS LIKE THIS:
Is it just me, or is that blank stare really creepy?

LIMPY'S CONNECTION TO THE STATE: I like Rhode Island a lot. We usually go to Block Island once a year with some friends who have a boat. That way we can bring a lot of our own beer and food, (and beer), and avoid having to take a second mortgage out for the trip. Rhode Island's ocean beaches blow anything else in New England away, including the Cape. Providence is a lot of fun, and still fairly unknown.

HAS LIMPY EVER GOTTEN LAID IN THIS STATE: Yes. The Westin Hotel in Providence has a fond place in my memory. Assuming it's still open. Might have been the Omni. Look, I just remember the room OK?

Up next it's Vermont, home of maple syrup, hippies, and hippies covered in maple syrup.

I Thought This Was A Couple Of Years Away

2008-02-20T11:57:00.000-08:00

but apparently I was wrong. Gloriously, wonderfully wrong. It seems that Lindsay Lohan has posed nude for New York magazine. Frankly, my money would have been on Hustler before New York Magazine. The best part of the story? Besides, of course, the pictures? (You didn''t think I'd forget you did you Phollower?)

(more photos after following the link above)

The latest rumor is that she was tricked into doing it, with the photographer claiming that only tamer shots would appear in the magazine, with the more revealing shots being reserved for museums or arty type books. I'm not sure how true that is; as the good folks at WWTDD point out, tricking Lohan into taking her clothes off seems "like tricking a fat kid to eat a cake", but if so, it sort of makes this even funnier. In a "wow that's a huge lawsuit" kind of way.

Just on a personal note, I've never found Lindsay Lohan all that attractive, but I do like these pictures. Nice job, even if it was by accident.

Pennsylvania: Hey Look Kids, Another Dead Deer!

2008-02-16T18:54:00.001-08:00

Chapter 9 in the now-plodding along "Know Limpy's States"

Pennsylvania is the 2nd state, entering the Union on December 12, 1787. If they could have gotten their act together and done it 6 days earlier, none of us would ever have had to know anything about Delaware. Including perhaps how to spell it during the 5th grade spelling bee and therefore not losing to that geek Fred Humpage.

Pennsylvania is known as "The Keystone State", for some reason. According to this book it's because "[t]o a builder, the keystone is at the center of the arch, the stone that binds the others together. Pennsylvania was key to the nation's succesful start, and a major force in holding the union together during its toughest time." Which I guess would have been a little thing called the "Civil War", or as some of my 'Bama friends like to call it, spitting the words out between their three mismatched teeth, "The War of Northern Aggression." Face it, we kicked your asses. Get over it.

Anyway, calling Pennsylvania the Keystone State because it was crucial to the nation's start seems like kind of a kick to the groin of New York, Virginia and Massachussets, but what do I know? I was only a history major. As I recall, Washington was usually pissed off at the Quakers, who stayed out of the fighting due to their pacifist tendencies, but who were more than happy to sell stuff to the troops at a 200% mark-up, because, hey, a buck's a buck. Of course, Washington was also usually pissed off at the New England troops because they didn't listen well, tended to wander off, and didn't exactly bathe on a regular basis.

Of course, at the time Pennsylvania was pretty much the center of the universe because it had Philadelphia and to a (much) lesser extent, Pittsburgh. Which at the time was pretty much a wooden fort filled with sick and bitter troops and surrounded by Indians. Today, people in Pittsburgh refer to those times, justifiably, as "The Good Old Days". Philadelphia had, in the Revolutionary era, Ben Franklin, who was probably the most famous American in the world, (and something of a slut if you believe the stuff written about what he was doing in Europe while representing America), so it was probably the most famous city in the US for a time. It was the first capital of the country, (in colonial times anyway, I think NYC took it over after the Constitution, but I'm too lazy to go look that up), and the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution were written there. Also there's a bell in the city somewhere but the name escapes me.

Pennsylvania is a long state, with many highways. I had thought, based on a movie I had rented as research for this post, that the most famous of these highways was the one leading to the chocolate factories in Hershey, but it turns out that "Chocolate Thunder's Adventures On The Hershey Highway" meant something entirely different. Boy was my face red!

That mistake aside however, I did once drive across Pennsylvania in one day. There are few experiences I can think of more unpleasant than that, although to be fair, at least two from that movie spring to mind fairly quickly. Mile after mile after mile of two lane highway with traffic stuck at 45 mph at best. And as the title of this little opus suggests, as far as I know the Pennsylvania DOT has a plan for the removal of deer carcasses which is called "ignore them and they will eventually rot", because I shit you not, during those hellish 7 hours my brother and I saw dozens of dead deer on the side of the road, several of which had clearly been out there past their expiration date.

We also noticed that in western PA there's a porn shop about every 7 miles off the highway.

Pennsylvania's state bird is the Ruffed Grouse. I know little about this bird but would hope it knows how to avoid highways or else it's ll be extinct by the time you finish reading this.

Pennsylvania's state flower is the mountain laurel, which is a total fucking rip-off of Connecticut! We had it first bitch! Perhaps we can fight another war about this issue. Connecticut and Pennsylvania did actually exchange a few shots at one point over an area of land called the "Case Western Reserve" Seems that CT's original charter from the British king, (either George III or someone else), extended CT lands as far west as the next ocean. Pennsylvania and Ohio would later get somewhat uppity about this. CT settlers later settled in parts of Pennsylvania, and, since no ones happy when CT yuppies come in wearing pink shirts and green pants, the Pennsylvania people got pissed and I believe some shots were fired and farms burned before differences were settled. To learn more about this fascinating chapter of our history, ask someone who knows more about it than I do. The wino on the corner would be a good place to start.

The highest point in Pennsylvania is Mt. Davis, in the southwest, looming up 3,213 above sea level. One of the lowest points in Pennsylvania is the Johnstown River valley. In 1889, an old and incredibly poorly maintained earthen dam located, quite unfortunately, above the towns in said valley, burst. The lake behind the dam came down the valley like a huge, uh, well, like a huge fucking wave I guess, and pretty much cleaned everything out. More than 2,000 people were killed. The most incredible thing about the flood? Very few lawsuits were filed and none of the plaintiffs recovered anything except one where someone recovered for some stolen whiskey!! Good book by the way, but then, McCullough could rewrite the phone book and I'd probably read it.

There are 12,365,455 people in Pennsylvania. Some of them are Amish. The Amish are a weird religious group, (although certainly not as weird as Scientolgists or, -shudder-, Catholics), who mostly live in the southeast and shun modern technology. Kind of like Ewoks but not as cuddly. For fun you can drive thought the area pointing your camera at them and watch them dive to the ground lest your magical flashamabulb thingie capture their souls.

Actually, I don't know if they do that, but they do have a kind of neat tradition or ritual or ritual-tradition, called "rumspringa" This, as I understand it, is kind of a young person's last chance to leave the community and join the land of the living, or else get baptized and commit to a life of scrapple and button-fly flannel pants and saying "thee" and "thou" a lot. One of the MTV channels did a reality show on this a few years ago. They took a handful of Amish teens and stuck them in a house in LA while they did their rumspringa. I thought it was going to be like watching a car crash, but it was kind of cool watching the kids see an entirely different, ("entirely" doesn't quite describe what it must be like going from Ephrata, PA to Los Angeles, but for now it'll do), and seeing how they reacted to it. As the show went on it seemed like the women were more inclined to rethink this whole living in the 18th century way of life, while the guys were frankly terrified of the concept, although they did like the beer. Which just goes to show you that what I've always said is true: If you expect breakfast on the table every morning don't ever let your wife leaving the house!

I make my own oatmeal pretty much every morning.

IF YOU'RE IN PENNSYLVANIA YOU SHOULD: First, keep an eye peeled for deer, because the things are apparently sucidal down there and prefer to off themselves in traffic. Second, stay away from Scranton, the ugliest metropolitan, (and I use that term loosely), area I've ever seen, and remember, I dated a girl who lived in Worcester, MA! Other than that, I can't really tell you. I went to Philadelphia once. Saw a baseball game at the old stadium, which was a hideous monstrosity and deserved to be blown up. It was 108 degrees that day, and for once I'm not lying. The new stadium looks nice, although unfortunately it's still the Phillies in there. My brother went to Pittsburgh last summer and said it was nice. You could see a Pirates game there, they have a nice new stadium as well, which is odd for a Double A team. My advice would be to root for the visitors.

MISS PENNSYLVANIA LOOKS LIKE THIS:
I don't know about you, but that was kinda worth the wait.

LIMPY'S CONNECTION TO STATE: Minimal. Although I've driven the length of the state twice, the most time I've spent out of the car was at that one Phillies game. That was for about four hours, the last two of which I was drunk and suffering from heat stroke.

HAS LIMPY EVER GOTTEN LAID IN THIS STATE: No.

Up next, Rhode Island. Hold the applause.

Technical Difficulties, Please Stand By

2008-02-14T07:21:00.000-08:00

I hate to let anyone down, and to let Pug down when he was counting on reading about the Amish is almost more than I can bear. Yet somehow I pull through. At the moment I am in the middle of making some fairly important decisions about how, where and with whom I'll be earning money in the future. There are many things to factor, incuding the fact that I like my current job a lot, it pays well, and there's a comfort factor to that, as opposed to determining how many marijuana plants I can fit in the basement and exactly how to tap directly into that high voltage power line near my house so that no one notices the suddent surge in power use from the heat lamps and hydrophonics plant. Or should I do the environementally sensiitice thing and go solar?

Many, many decisions and many things to do over the last (and next) several days. So bear with me. At some point, (hell, maybe tonight, although probably not because I need to watch "Lost" and catch up with "The Wire", and, oh yeah, it's Valentine's Day), I will get to Pennsylvania and the Amish and how all you really need to do to pick up an Amish hottie
is infiltrate their daily life while protecting their child who witnessed Danny Glover kill someone in a Philadelphia public restroom.

Could have been worse; he could've witnessed something going on in a Minneapolis airport men's room.

Fuck Everything, I'm Going To Bed

2008-02-10T20:46:00.000-08:00

I was going to write up an exciting, informative and inaccurate history of Pennsylvania tonight, but it's late, I haven't been to bed before 2 in four days, (completely my own fault), and I need to be at work earlier than usual tomorrow so I'm goign to do the responsible thing and hit the sack before midnight.

So Pennsylvania, the Quakers, the Pittsburgh Steelers and dead deer strewn across highways will just have to wait until maybe tomorrow. Hold your breath. Sort of like what one has to do while driving through New Jersey to get to Philadelphia.

Finally, A Reason To See A Woody Allen Movie

2008-02-08T09:34:00.000-08:00

According to the New York Post, (and more importantly Filmdrunk.com, since I wouldn't wipe my ass with the Post), the new Woody Allen movie will include a "steamy lesbian sex scene" involving Penelope Cruz and Scarlet Johanson

Actually, I probably don't need to see the movie, since it's been playing on more or less of a continuous reel in my head since I learned of this. As more than one person has pointed out, Allen's a creepy little fucker who probably wrote the scene into the movie just so he could watch two hot chicks make out in front of him, but since I've paid good money to watch the same thing in seedy bars, well, who can cast a stone?

You like that kids? "cast a stone"? Who else gives you Biblical references in posts about steamy lesbian sex scenes? No one that's who! And saying "Oh thank you god!!" upon reading this doesn't count.

New York: New Jersey Is Our Bitch

2008-02-02T21:06:00.001-08:00

Chapter 8 in "Know Limpy's States"

With a title shamelessly swiped from CP.

New York was the 11th state to join the union, ratifying the Constitution on July 26, 1788. Everyone was very excited, since New York was already nearly the most populous state, (and after 1790 would be and would remain so until the Mexicans found that hole in the fence near California), had most of the money, and most importantly, now there was finally somewhere to stuff all those goddamn Irish who were making noise about crossing the ocean in rickety little boats. Five Points here we come!! Within 50 years Limpy's forebears slipped through a restraining order at Ellis Island and the rest is pretty much history!

New York is nicknamed, by New Yorkers, "The Empire State", because New Yorkers think that the world revolves around them and that the rest of us are pretty much just far-flung little outposts of their vast empire. This would piss everyone else off but good if it wasn't for the distinct possibility that those smug little bastards are right. Because New York pretty much is the capital of the world. Name something, anything, from fashion to sports to money to food to whatever you can think of and New York's probably got more of it per square foot than anywhere else you can think of. More Jews than Israel, more Puerto Ricans than Puerto Rico and more Haitians than the bottom of the Florida Straits.

God that was awful.

The bottom line is that the world tends to revolve around New York. Sure there are other cute little burgs like London, Tokyo, Paris, Nairobi, (well, maybe not so much Nairobi), but you'll notice that when people from those towns want to make it big they come to New York. Unless they're some dumbass named Matsuzaka.

Of course, all of this is relevant only to New York City, and there's a lot more to New York than NYC. It's just that no one gives a shit about any of it. Seriously, if the rest of New York just disappeared one day, few people would notice and less would care. But since I try to give inaccurate if not completyely made-up information about the entire state, here goes...

Omnia Gallia est patria,....

Oh, sorry, that was me channeling my third year high school Latin class. I was told it would be useful. It's been 18 years, that's the first time I've written something in Latin. And it's probably wrong. It's from Caesar's writings about invading Gaul and whupping up on the barbarians, (who 400 years later kicked the shit out of the Romans), and starts out by saying, in Latin, "All Gaul is divided into three parts", no doubt news to the Gallic tribes, who were much more into subdivisions than they apparently let on to Caesar. Similarly, New York is divided into three areas, and like Caesar and his ilk 2,000+ years ago, most people from New York City would be as happy to see someone from Rochester heading towards their apartment as the Romans were when the Visigoths showed up in 426 looking to borrow a cup of sugar.

Most people call anything north of the metro NYC area "Upstate" This includes the state capital of Albany, major cities like Rochester, Syracuse and Buffalo, (Go Sabres!), and of course, Utica, home of Genessee Cream Ale. There's a lot of farms and two state parks, one of which, Adirondack State Park, is E-friggin'-normous, taking up a big chunk of the middle of the state, and another, the Catskills, which some people, (OK me), refer to as "The Hebrew Himalayas"

Trips to upstate New York can be fun and exciting, with lots of scenery, fresh air, the Baseball Hall of Fame, setting fire to Lake Erie, and driving in an incessant straight line across I-90 until one starts praying for death to arrive, if only to relieve the tedium.

The other section of New York state is, of course, Long Island. I've always been told, "if you can't say anything good about something, say nothing"

The best part about New York, of course, is the New York Yankees.
26 time World Series Champions. Most other sports teams win four championships and than start talking about winning a fifth championship as "win one for the thumb." The Yankees have one for their thumb, the fingers and thumb on the other hand, all their toes on both feet, their cocks and all the fingers on one of your hands, (assuming your not some six-fingered circus freak Mets fan), and don't you forget it motherfucker!

New York's state bird is the Eastern Bluebird. I would hazard a guess that you'd need to go upstate to see one. The only birds in New York City are pigeons, and those things will stab other birds and take their wallets as soon as look at them.

New York's state flower is the rose, because seriously, what else were those pretentious fucks going to choose? A carnation? I think not.

The highest point in New York is Mt. Marcy, nestled in Adirondack State Park, surrounded by slack-jawed yokels, (and those are the hikers), and topping off at 5,344 feet above sea level. I've never climbed it, as some fellow hikers I trust have told me its overcrowded, seriously eroded, and generally not really worth the effort. It's probably paved with gold and has gorgeous strippers lining the trails and those fuckers are just keeping it to themselves.

There are 19,190,115 people in New York, 8,084,316 of whom live in New York City. The New York metropolitan area itself includes over 21 million people, which is more people than the entire state, and includes chunks of New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Connecticut, and for some reason, a small area of Wyoming but no one knows why.

FUN TRUE STORY ABOUT A NEW YORKER: A buddy of mine and I are in a gas station in Manchester, CT, 2-3 hours from New York. A sterotypical New York guido pulls up in his Trans Am and asks if we can tell him where the airport is. We say there's no airport nearby. He gets all flustered and says his buddy told him he had to pick him up at the Manchester airport and he's been on the road for two hours and "what the fuck yo?" So I look at his license plate and see it says New York and then I take in his accent, leather jacket and T-shirt, and the girl with the huge hair in the passenger seat and I say, "You're from Brooklyn aren't you" He says "Yeah" and I say "You think you're in Manchester New Hampshire don't you?" He says "Yeah" And then we tell him he's a good 3 hours from where he's supposed to be and give him directions to Manchester, NH. Going to show that people from NYC have no clue about the outside world and, if released into it, will wander around lost and gasping for air until someone takes their hand, gives them a gentle shove in the right direction, and reminds them to breathe in and out.

IF YOU'RE IN NEW YORK YOU SHOULD: Just head for the City. Go to Broadway. Get drunk at Hogs and Heifers. See the Bronx Zoo. See the Yankees. Don't see the Mets. Cheer for the Rangers and boo the Knicks. Bang a hooker. Kill a hooker. (No don't. Kill a Mets fan instead) Go to the Museum of Natural History. Do whatever you want, because if you can think it up, NYC will sell it to you.

If you're on Long Island try to get to a beach and get some sun. Then leave. If you're in upstate New Yok just keep driving. You'll hit Canada eventually.

MISS NEW YORK LOOKS LIKE THIS:

But sometimes, after making hisotry by becoming the first African-American Miss America, her past comes back to haunt her and she looks like this:

But then she goes on to have a fairly succesful singing and acting career, marries a pro basketball player and makes millions of dollars, so the lesson here kids, is that if Penthouse magazine asks if they can publish naked pictures of you, say yes. And yes, I know poor Vanessa didn't actually get asked for permission, but she's certainly made more of her Miss America than 98.99999999999% of the rest of them, so the lesson still holds: Penthouse is good for your career.

LIMPY'S CONNECTION TO STATE: I visit the City whenever I can. I love the place but wouldn't want to live there. A few days is good and then the overwhelming smell of urine starts to irk me. I've been to Long Island a few times when I've had to and honestly I like the area but find the people to be the sort that I hope the zombies eat first, because then the former would be dead and the latter would starve to death for lack of brains. Also Billy Joel would stop making new music. I've got relatives strewn across the I-90 corridor, (metaphorically. They're actually very safe drivers), from Albany to Syracuse, and that is one long ass drive, especially in the down pour that seems to accompany me every time I travel through there. I like New York a lot.

HAS LIMPY EVER GOTTEN LAID IN THIS STATE: Sweet mother of all that is holy, you bet!

Up next, Pennsylvania, because the Amish have to live somewhere.

I Really Wish It Was Oregon's Turn Today

2008-02-01T10:10:00.000-08:00

because then this would be much more timely. But looking at the table of contents we're not getting to Oregon any time soon, especially when you factor in my inherent laziness, so I'll put this up now rather than forget where it is three years from now when I'm finally trying to write something nice about a state filled with lesbians and rain.

And, apparently, a highway department with way too much dynamite on its hands.

I will get to New York by Monday or Tuesday, depending on whether or not I'm hungover from the Super Bowl or catch whatever flu bug my wife has. Either way, my chances of vomiting at some point this weekend are signifcantly higher than the Giants chances of winning the Super Bowl. I think actually I'm only supposed to refer to the Super Bowl as "The Big Game", because the NFL trademarked the phrase "Super Bowl", but fuck the man right?

Super Bowl Super Bowl Super Bowl Super Bowl Super Bowl Super Bowl Super Bowl Super Bowl Super Bowl Super Bowl Super Bowl Super Bowl Super Bowl Super Bowl Super Bowl Super Bowl Super Bowl Super Bowl Super Bowl Super Bowl Super Bowl Super Bowl Super Bowl Super Bowl Super Bowl Super Bowl Super Bowl Super Bowl Super Bowl Super Bowl Super Bowl Super Bowl

God that gets boring quick.

In other news my wife and I are trying to decide whether or not to buy a new house. Isn't that exciting? Oh, you bet it is. Especially when you come to the conclusion that you can afford a nice house, although by no means a McMansion, OR, you can save for the kids to go to college, but you probably can't do both. And according to a newspaper we're not even middle-class, we're like upper middle-class. Which came as a big fucking surprise to yours truly. It amazes me how little that means these days. Growing up the people we knew of as upper-middle class had the nice homes, the new cars and their kids had nice clothes and cool toys. Now they're either doing what we're doing, plodding along and trying not to spend money unless absolutely necesary or else mortgaged to the hilt and driving the recession along by defaulting on their refinancing. Nice to know that the middle class is truly fucked and the upper middle-class is OK as long as they either don't have kids or have kids so hopelessly dumb that college isn't an issue.

Anyway, the last week as been filled with discussion of whether or not to spend upwards of $400K for a 3 bedroom house with a 2 car garage on 4+ acres of land near a state forest, (and right next to a high voltage power-line right of way that's due to be increased in 2 years!), thereby raising our mortgage to the point that current miscellaneous expenses, like, I don't know, gas for instance, become a problem; or, stay in our current home which we are outgrowing and continue to take the occasional vacation or put braces on the kids teeth and maybe save for college for at least one of them. I'm not sure we're going to swing two tuitions in 14 years even if we move into a fucking tent in that aforementioned state forest.

Or we could move to Alabama and buy the same house minus the high voltage wires for about $6.74. Whichever.

-sigh-

It's days like this when a good whale blubber explosion just means so much.

New Jersey: You Got A Fuckin' Problem With That?

2008-01-27T20:56:00.001-08:00

Chapter 7 in "Know Limpy's States"

New Jersey was the third state to ratify the Constitution, doing so on December 18, 1778, and, somewhat regrettably for all the other states, remaining a member of the Union ever since. Couldn't even get rid of them during the Civil War.

New Jersey, for absolutely no legitimate reason, is nicknamed "The Garden State". It could be due to the abundance of farm production it enjoyed during the Colonial and Revolutionary eras, or it could be because any region full of that much shit must have enough fertilzer to grow a pretty damn good garden. They do remain a surprising fifth in the country in producing crops like blueberries, which should give anyone second thoughts about eating blueberries. I myself have never seen a garden in New Jersey, (although I've seen a tree grow in Brooklyn and it didn't seem like that big of a deal), but then, it is hard to see anything while driving as fast as possible while holding your breath and squinting your eyes to reduce the amount of toxic clouds entering your eyeballs.

New Jersey is famous for many things, chiefly as the home state of Tony Soprano, a man whose death or non-death caused a huge uproar, considering he was pretend. New Jersey is also famous for stealing all of New York's football teams. And for urban rioting in 1967. And for Thomas Edison, who invented many things at Menlo Park in New Jersey, including the light bulb and the phone. We all know the content of the first phone call "Mr. Watson, come here. I want to go to the South Shore"

Which is one of the more well-known aspects of New Jersey life; leaving the northern urban areas during the summer months to flock to the beaches. It's a migration so famous it's somewhat surprising that it was left to MTV, (or was it VH-1? Ah, who gives a shit?) to chronicle it a few years back, rather than the National Geographic Channel. Apparently every year 20-somethings flock to the shore, intent on enjoying life crammed into tiny cottages, drinking in smelly bars, and copulating with each other in public. It's a lot like watching the Canada geese migrate through the fields behind my house every spring and fall, except the geese are quieter and don't shit in public as much. Also, it's legal to shoot the geese if they get out of hand. Much to the chagrin of everyone else in New Jersey, it remains illegal to shoot 20-somethings on summer break from Newark.

Geographically, New Jersey is maybe most famous for the Pine Barrens, a 1.1 million acre national reserve in the south filled with forests, bogs, and swamps, and more ex-members of the mob than you can shake a stick at. The first dinosaur fossil was found near the Pine Barrens. Located near the town of Haddonfield, it was called a Hadrosaur. Nothing is certain, but scientists believe it may have killed itself upon realizing it was in New Jersey.

New Jersey's state bird is the American Gold Finch. Apparently it has a lovely call when it's not holding its breath.

The state flower is the violet. I got nothing on that. It's a violet. What am I gonna do with that?

The highest point in New Jersey is either High Point, located in the Kittatinny Mountains of Northwest Jersey, at a stunning 18,003 feet above sea lev...oh, wait, never mind. "at a mediocre 1,803" feet above sea level, OR, the highest point is right outside one of Bruce Springsteen's concerts whenever he's in town.

There are 8,638,396 people in New Jersey, making it the most populous state we've visited so far. In what is a rare compliment, New Jersey is a national leader in fighting against urban sprawl, reducing those godawful strip malls and saving farmland and forested areas. I'm a total tree hugger. I also hate Wal-Mart. Eat me. More states should be like New Jersy in this regard. And probably only in this regard.

IF YOU'RE IN NEW JERSEY YOU SHOULD: Hold your breath. Other than that, I really don't know. The only time I've spent in New Jersey that didn't involve driving hell-bent-for-leather to get somewhere else was a week in January some years back in a warehouse doing a document review. We sat in an unheated open area reading through thousands of pages of chemical company documents while, judging from the graffiti in the men's room, a race war was simmering among the regular workers. I can tell you that there was great Creole restaurant across the street from our hotel where I'd get loaded every night and try to forget where I was, but I don't know the name of it. So other than that, I don't know what to tell you.

MISS NEW JERSEY LOOKS LIKE THIS:

Just kidding, although you'd be hard-pressed to disprove that. She actually looks like this:

and sometimes, unfortunately, she gets her drunk on and looks like this:

Good for her I say.

LIMPY'S CONNECTION TO THE STATE: An aunt of mine used to live there. I've driven the length of the state a few times while heading to other destinations. I have nothing bad to say about their highway rest areas. That's about it.

HAS LIMPY EVER GOTTEN LAID IN THIS STATE: No.

Next up: New York, New York, a state so nice they named it twice. What do you mean that's for the city?

We Now Pause For These Commerical Messages

2008-01-24T06:56:00.000-08:00

I was hoping to get a post in about New Jersey this week, but it doesn't look like that will be getting done. There are a number of reasons for this, among them my own laziness and a week long battle to get through one of the tougher levels of Halo 3. But the main reason is the community service I'm engaged in tonight. And not the usual kind of community service I do thanks to those spoilsports in Vice, where I'm picking up trash on the side of the road while wearing some kind of neon jumpsuit.

Nope, this week is the culmination of my law school alma mater's "Moot Court" session. Two of my friends are teaching a section this year, as they have for the last several years. Moot Court is about the only practical thing anyone ever learns in law school. It takes place during winter break, (thereby keeping anyone from getting a job, although not from drinking), and for several weeks teaches would-be lawyers how to write a brief and how to argue in court.

At the conclusion of the moot court session the classes are broken up into teams and they argue in front of panels of "judges". This year I agreed to help out by being one of the judges, mostly because I'm hoping to reduce one or two students to tears through aggresive questions that have nothing to do with the actual case they've been working on. Just like a real judge would.

After agreeing to do this, and promising not to actually swear at the students, (I totally crossed my fingers), I was presented with a stack of documents the size of my head to go over to prepare questions for, and upon which my ever-so-crucial judgment is to be based.

Just as a side-note, how thrilled would you be if you knew your Moot Court grade relied at least in part on a guy named "Judge Limpy"? Personally, I'd ask for my money back.

So after spending much of the week reading briefs, case-law, bench guides and contracts, tonight I'll be sitting down, (dressed in a judge's robe!), and asking young lawyer hopefuls questions like "How do you reconcile that position with the Vermont Mutual decision?" "Isn't that positon contrary to our often expressed public policy of reading insurance policies in favor of the insured, rather than the insurer?" "Do you seriously think that tie goes with that suit?"

I do it for the kids.

And because I'm just kind of a dick.

Just for the hell of it, here's a shot of Indira Varma. I figure something in here should be interesting.

Let's Go To Italy!

2008-01-21T11:51:00.000-08:00

The mysterious Lil' Bit from the Hall Of Mirrors sent me a story comparing an Italian talk show host with a US talk show host. Here's the Italian:

and here's the US competitor:

And we wonder why we're slipping as a superpower. I couldn't understand a word of the first show but I gurantee I'd find it entertaining. For at least 7 minutes.

New Hampshire: Don't Take It For Granite

2008-01-15T21:02:00.000-08:00

Ha-Ha! "Don't take it for "granite"! Get it? The Granite State? Don't take it for granted? Oh fuck off, what do you know? Write your own completely inaccurate and probably libelous version of the 50 states.

Seriously, that's an awful pun. I should be horsewhipped. Preferabbly by that chick from the last post. But enough about my dark little world with all the puppets, let's get to it.

Chapter 6 in "Know Limpy's States"

New Hampshire was the 9th state admitted to the union, ratifying the Constitution on June 21, 1788. I believe, but am too lazy to go look it up, that it was New Hampshire's ratification that made the Constitution actually take effect for the entire country.

New Hampshire is nicknamed "The Granite State", because there's, like, a lot of rocks in the state, mostly granite formations, and besides, calling a state "That Sort of Triangle Shaped Thing Between Maine and Vermont" didn't get anybody all that excited. The state motto "Live Free or Die", is much more exciting, actually leading to a Supreme Court ruling about free speech when some guy decided he didn't like the implications on such a statement and snipped it off. The state fined him, he sued, and eventually the US Supreme Court said that the state couldn't make someone carry around a motto that they didn't believe in. This was markedly different than the finding of the New Hampshire Supreme Court, which at the time included a moose and a lynx, which was that the guy was a total pussy and should be exiled to a more effeminate state, like Vermont.

The devotion to freedon was well-represented in the Revolution when New Hampshire's most famous soldier, Col. John Stark, whipped the British at Bennington.

Bennington is in Vermont.

New Hampshire is ONE OF 7 stateS (fucking know it alls)without an income tax, and they're so hell-bent on keeping it that way that even suggesting the imposition of a tax is political death. Which sounds great until you think about moving there and investigate the school system, ("Wait, we have to supply a cord of wood to heat the schoolhouse? What the fuck?"), or try to drive around on what they call "roads." Here's a tip from someone who knows. When crusing around New Hampshire on anything other than a primary road, a) don't stop unless you want to star in "Deliverance 2: It's Better Up North", and b) if you see a road sign warning you about a frost heave, slow the hell down. These folks don't screw around. Holes and bumps that would close a CT road for six months are just a fact of life up in New Hampshire. If they're concerned enough to put a sign up you can bet your ass you can see magma in the frost heave so labeled.

New Hampshire also posts signs keeping track of the number of moose killed on its highways. They post this number, and update it, on roadside signs. This is not, I repeat NOT, a challenge.

Since there's no income tax, New Hampshire raises revenue in a number of other ways. Tolls on the decent road; (no, I didn't accidentally leave an "s" off road, weren't you paying attention earlier?); sales tax; what I'm told is an ass-raping property tax; and, best of all, selling fireworks to pretty much anyone and selling liquor dirt cheap in state run stores. I'll tell ya, nothing makes me feel safer than stopping by a state run liquor store, picking up a couple of bottles of good booze for a song, then watching a truck-driver load up the cab of his truck with 86 bottles of tequila and head south.

I usually give them a good head start.

New Hampshire's state bird is the purple finch. The state flower is the purple lilac. Given the fascination with purple, one might have expected New Hampshire to be the first state to legalize gay marriage.

The highest point in New Hampshire is Mt. Washington, towering 6,288 feet above sea level. It is the highest point in New England and indeed higher than anything else east of the Mississippi other than a couple of big hills down near Tysgirl. But Mt. Washington is a legitimate mountain and people die on it. Especially in winter. I've climbed it twice, and you can bet your ass it was warm and sunny both times.

In sort of a related note, one of New Hampshire's symbols was "The Old Man of the Mountain", a natural granite formation on Cannon Mtn that looked like a face in profile. It collapsed in a rockslide in 2003 and made the news all over the country. My father was working as an editor at the time, and a friend called him from another paper to tell him that he'd come up with a great headline but the powers that be wouldn't let him use it. The headline? "I've Fallen And I Can't Get Up"

There are 1,287,687 people in New Hampshire and every four years every single one of them stands a good chance of being fellated, (cunnilingused?), by politicians seeking their approval in the "first in the nation" primary. Because letting a state filled with tax-hating-white-people-who-lack-the-good-sense-to-live-somewhere- other-than-New-Hampshire set the tone for a Presidential election ensures good government.

IF YOU'RE IN NEW HAMPSHIRE YOU SHOULD: Look, I'll be honest, I go to New Hampshire for one reason only and that's to hike. So short of telling you some really cool places to hike, I haven't got the slightest fucking idea what to do in New Hampshire. On your way home, however, load up on cheap booze. It's a great state to live in if you like being outside.

MISS NEW HAMSHIRE LOOKS LIKE THIS:

LIMPY'S CONNECTION TO STATE: It's like my backyard. I'll run around in it all day, but then I leave to go eat somewhere else.

HAS LIMPY EVER GOTTEN LAID IN THIS STATE: Surprisingly yes. My wife and I considered moving there and spent a night or two in motels while checking things out. Gotta do something to keep warm.

Next up: New Jersey, where dreams go to die.

Terrell Owens: Not So Dumb As You Think He Am

2008-01-15T09:56:00.000-08:00

To the extent that I am a football fan, I root for the Cowboys of Dallas. The reason for this is that when I was but a young lad, my father, a Giants fan, for some reason purchased my brother an I Christmas gifts of, respectively, a Dallas Cowboys #55 jersey, (Lee Roy Jordan), and a Steelers #32 jersey, for Franco Harris. In our house, team loyalty goes with the laundry.

As you can imagine, I wasn't doing jumping jacks with the Cowboys performance this weekend. Apparently their quarterback was on leave from the Dallas Special Olympics flag football team and things didn't go so well. Also, Terrell Owens, an all-pro wide receiver and all-around head case, cried afterwards while attmepting to defend the dumbass QB, although how exactly a grown man blubbering on TV is an effective defense escapes me.

Still, give Terrell credit. In the ensuing weeks, while hampered by a bad ankle, he refused to meet with any members of the media. This created some controversy, since the status of Terrell Owens ankle has some connection to peace in the Middle East. Exactly what that connection is a bit vague, but it must be true given the hoo-ha about his refusing to talk to the press.

He did, however, make an exception. He talked to this chick.

See if you can guess why.

I picked this story up from withleather.com, a worthwhile stop for anyone who likes smartass stories about sports and pictures of hot women wearing very little. I'm looking at you Syd.

Massachusetts: Because Massholes Have To Come From Somewhere

2008-01-07T20:29:00.000-08:00

Chapter 5 in "Know Limpy's States"

Massachusetts is the 6th state admitted to the Union, ratifying the Constitution, (which is totally different than the Declaration of Independence, and if you know that, you're not only as smart as a fifth grader, but you are in fact smarterer than Bill O'Reilly), on February 6, 1788. Massachusetts is called "The Gay State" to memorialize its foresightedness in being the first state to legalize gay marriage.

What? "The Bay State"? Really? Well, that's sort of lame.

There are at least two and arguably three distinct sections of Massachusetts. The two definite sections are a) Greater Boston and b) Everywhere else. Sometimes people separate "Everywhere else" into "Western Massachusetts", a wilderness area inhabited primarily by flannel wearing woodspeople and possibly some gnomes in the far northwest, and "Cape Cod" an area populated chiefly by transients and fairies. And not the same kind of fairies who would be at home with the gnomes, but the kind of fairies who buy up all the good property on the beaches and then tastefully redecorate the shit out of it.

Boston is probably the first true city in the US, at least if you listen to anyone from Boston. And not just listen, but understand them. The latter can be quite a trick since no one in Boston can actually pronounce the letter "r" in any way, shape or form, not to mention the fact that they're usually shit-faced drunk and screaming that Jeter is a homo. My favorite quote about Boston, and I can't recall the author/speaker, goes along the lines of this: "When Boston was first built, the city-founders declared it to be the biblical 'Shining City Upon A Hill', then later decided to abandon that false pretense of modesty".

Boston has four major sports teams: The Celtics, who are now good again thanks to importing two really good older guys. They'll probably challenge for the NBA title this year, but no one outside Boston will watch, because no one cares about the NBA anymore; the Bruins, who allegedly play a sport called "hockey" in a league called the "NHL". Truth be told, this could be a myth, much like the gnomes of Western Massachusetts, but not like the Cape Cod Fairies, which are totally real. Yes, I am still bitter about the Whalers.

There's also a football team that plays sort of near Boston called the New England Patriots. I don't think they're very good, but rumor has it they may pull it together over the next couple of years.

And then there's the Red Sox. The Fucking Red Sox. You know, they were a cute team a few years ago. Every now and then they'd make the play-offs and find some creative way to lose, like forgetting to catch a ground ball, or forgetting to throw the ball in from the outfield while the other team ran around the bases like raped apes, or tripping over a batter while trying to field a bunt. They lost so much and so memorably that people wondered what their fans would do if they ever won the World Series. And then they won it in 2004 and I cheered for them, much the same way I would cheer for the fat kid to stumble across the finish line in a 100 yard dash. And we found out what would happen to their fans.

They would turn into screaming assholes.

And they did. Holeee crap. Yes, you've won two World Series in four years. That's very impressive. When you win four in five years get back to me.

In addition to its mediocre athletic teams, Massachusetts is home to many insititutions on higher learning. Some, like Harvard, MIT and Tufts, have fine reputations. Others, like Holy Cross, are located in Worcester, quite possibly the second ugliest city in the state, (Hello, Holyoke!), and while it could be a fine school, no one in their right mind would want to stay in Worcester for four years. And then there are those Massachusetts schools that teach women how to harness their mutant microwave energy and how to pick just the right skin tight suit to show off their gravity defying breasts.

Massachusetts state bird is the chickadee. While this is the same bird as Maine's, technically Massachusetts is the older state, and for awhile Maine was a part of Massachusetts before fighting a bloody civil war from 1861-1865 to win its independence, so we can't legitmately accuse Masschusetts of stealing the chickadee from Maine. We can, however, totally do so illegitemately, so fuck you Massachusetts, get your own damn bird!

The Massachusetts state flower is the Mayflower. Gee, I can't imagine where they came up with that name. Smug little fuckers. For a great book about the Pilgrims, the Indians, and what a bunch of conniving assholes they all were, click here. A bit different from what we all learned in 6th grade English. Squanto the hero my ass.

The highest point in Massachusetts is atop Mt. Greylock, 3,491 feet above sea level. I've climbed it. There's a road to the top. Once was enough.

There are 6,433,422 people in Massachusetts, all of who are going to hell for living in a state that legitimizes gay marriage, and more importantly for rooting for the Red Sox. God hates the Red Sox.

IF YOU'RE IN MASSACHUSETTS YOU SHOULD: Well, shit, there's actually tons to do in Massachusetts. Good Italian food in the north end of Boston. Great seafood on the Cape. Whale watching tours off of Provincetown. Queer watching in Provincetown. Great music options like the Calvin Theater in Northhampton. A strip bar in North Hadley called "Anthony's" that is simply God's gift to men. And of course, chartered fishing tours out of Gloucester.

MISS MASSACHUSETTS LOOKS LIKE THIS:

LIMPY'S CONNECTION TO STATE: Pretty damn strong. I spend a lot of time in Boston for lots of reasons, and North Hadley for obvious reasons. I dated a girl who lived near Worcester for over a year. I've hiked all over the western part of the state. I love the Northhampton music scene.

HAS LIMPY EVER GOTTEN LAID IN THIS STATE: Yes.

Next up: New Hampshire. The state everyone pays attention to once every four years, then tries to forget, sort of like your odd uncle who lives in the attic.

Returning For 2008

2008-01-07T08:49:00.000-08:00

Tysgirl pointed out that I've been slacking, which is true. And also something I said I'd be doing while I was on vacation. So it's not like that should have been a surprise. But now that I'm not on vacation I'll post more regularly, including, hoepfully, tomorrow's resumption of "Know Limpy's States" with a libelous depiction of Massachussetts.

In the meantime, here's a picture of Elisha Cuthbert. At least, I think that's her last name. I don't really care. She's an actress from "24" where she plays the role of Jack Bauer's daughter. Really, really badly. She's probably the hottest girl I've ever wanted to be killed off a show. But she sort of redeemed herself in the movie "The Girl Next Door", where she was a porn actress looking to get out of the business and all she really had to do was stand around and breath. That she's good at.

Tomorrow: Massachusetts: Because Massholes Have To Breed Somewhere

Happy New Year

2007-12-30T21:55:00.001-08:00

And what a glorious year it's been too. If you haven't noticed, (and really why should you?), I've been on a bit of a vacation lately. Almost as long as the one I'm taking from work. I might go back for a couple of days next week, but not more than one if I can help it. And the only reason I'm doing that is to meet some arbitrary deadlines so that my supervisor's life will be easier, thereby making my life easier.

In the meantime, I've been occupying my time in a variety of ways, from making the kids quit playing XBox and going outside, (then getting on XBox for the next two hours myself), to getting the wife out without the kids for a dinner that does not involve pre-wrapped food, to staying up until 3 am and getting up at 11 am, (you get your 8 hours when you want them, and I'll get my 8 hours when I want them), to pestering the judiciary in states thousands of miles away from me to keep gay people from getting married, to growing sea-monkeys, to replacing dead fish with identical fish so my daughter doesn't know about the dead one, to dealing with a balky furnace, to having the following conversation with my son:

Son: "Dad, what's sex?"

Me: "About $100. Now go away, I can't watch the Cowboy game through you."

Alright, two of those things may have been somewhat exaggerated, like me even remotely giving a shit about what two consenting adults do with their relationships, and also my response when I was asked that question by my son this past week. My actual response was to take a deep breath and then, because his mother wasn't home, thereby preventing me from my preferred parental strategy known as "passing the buck", sitting him down and explaining what sex is. It's kind of awkward deciding on the fly what to include and what to leave in. I'm pretty sure a 9 year old can handle the whole "penis+vagina=baby" discussion, but I'm also almost positive he doesn't need to know what a rim-job is. Everything is else is kind of a grey area.

Oh, well, that's what the internet is for.

More regular posts to resume when I get back on a more regular schedule, including the resumption of our tour of Limpy's 50 states.

Merry Christmas

2007-12-24T19:19:00.000-08:00

I sincerely hope that you all get what you want.

Laid.

It's Like Hannah Montana, Only If Hannah Swallowed

2007-12-20T10:34:00.000-08:00

So we're taking a break from our trip through our 50 states, (plus maybe DC, Puerto Rico and/or Guam if I got really bored), to comment on the latest bit of schadenfreude, which is a word that a)I'm sure I misspelled but don't care, and b)means taking delight in the misfortune of others.

Jamie Lynn Spears, 16 and the sister of the very stable Britney Spears, is apparently knocked up. She's the star of a show my kids watch called "Zoey 101". She's Zoey. As I recall my school days, "101" was an introductory class where the basics of a subject were explained. Apparently "Zoey 101" could have done with spending a bit more time in "Biology 101". The news stories, (that I looked up after hearing about this on the news, and watching an episode of "Zoey 101" to see if there were any tell-tale signs, like "next week, on a very special Zoey 101, Zoey learns why she should have paid more attention to the lady putting the slimey rubber dohickey over the banana in that health class"), say that the father is her 19 year old boyfriend, who she met in church, and who now may be facing statutory rape charges, except they're going to move to Louisiana, where I believe it's OK for a 19 year old to knock up a 16 year old as long as they both consent to the sex and are the same species.

Obviously, 16 year old girls getting pregnant isn't really funny, but the news articles are priceless. They quote Jamie Lynn as saying that she and her boyfriend were really surprised that this could have happened. Yes, any time someone gets pregnant after having sex, it's a shocker dearie. This is what happens when you date naive people you meet in church. I met my wife in a bar and we had our first kid three years after we got married because we knew how to have sex and not get pregnant, and I don't mean anal either. While you can't get pregnant from that, good luck convincing your wife that's reason enough to go for it.

But the best part was Jamie's expressed desire to raise the kid in Louisiana, where she grew up, so the kid could have a "normal" life. Because that's worked out so well for the Spears sisters so far. At least they're rich.

So for now, I guess I'll have the kids just watch "Hannah Montana" at least until we get to the episode where Hannah does a bunch of Ecstasy and then bangs three roadies.

No, You Don't Have Crabs, You're Just In Maryland

2007-12-16T19:33:00.000-08:00

Chapter 4 in "Know Limpy's States"

Maryland was the 7th state admitted to the union, ratifying The Constitution on April 28, 1788, and putting to lie the expression "lucky #7".

The most fascinating fact about Maryland, to me anyway, and therefore by extension and unfortunately, you, is that the girl who took my virginity hailed from Maryland. It's a sordid tale, and you can find it here. No sense reliving that experience. Truly, a moment to be cherished and one to be forever thankful to "The Old Line State".

Because that indeed is the nickname for Maryland, "The Old Line State". One might reasonably expect that the nickname is derived from the perfectly straight northern border with Pennsylvania and the accompanying lack of imagination inherent to Marylanders, but you'd be wrong. Apparently the nickname is culled from George Washington's, (apparently he was important to the nation's early past; his name's all over this book), praise for the "troops of the line". Which actually rang a bell with me. As I recall from some of my history books on the Revolutionary War, a) we won, and b) in most battles everyone else would run away as soon as the British showed the slightest inclination towards forward movement, but the Maryland troops could be counted on to at least try to shoot a few redcoats before scuttling off like crabs. Apparently they were the bloodthristy psychopaths of the original colonies, and judging by my experience with their women, that trait hasn't disappeared.

The most well known geographic feature of Maryland is Chesapeake Bay, which pretty much takes up the center of the state. Well-known as a recreation area and the soruce of all those goddamn crabs Marylanders will shove down youur throat at the slightest excuse. the Chesapeake is widely loved state-wide, so much so that it is now so full of pig-shit run-off and so overfished that it's in danger of dying. But Marylanders are trying to save it, and they've got license plates to prove it. I, for one, hope they save the bay. That way I'll feel less guilty the next time I pee in Long Island Sound.

Maryland is also a leading exporter of wicked cool librarian/children's entertainer/song maker-uppers.

Maryland's state bird is the Northern (Baltimore) Oriole. I believe that the actual birds prefer it if you refer to them as "Northern Orioles", as there are very few species that would want to be associated with the hapless American League laughingstock, baseball's Baltimore Orioles.

The state flower is the black-eyed susan. There's a name that would never pass muster these days. The Preakness, the second of horse-racing's Triple Crown races, awards a wreath of black-eyed susans to the victorious horse, who then probably eats them. The Preakness is held somewhere in Maryland.

The highest point in Maryland is Backbone Mountain, towering 3,360 feet high along the border with West Virginia, and presumably heavily fortified to keep those hillbillies on their side of the mountain. It should not be confused with "Brokeback Mountain." But it probably is.

There are 5,508,909 people in Maryland. 638,614 of them live in the largest city, Baltimore. Which, if you believe the great HBO show "The Wire", has a population that drops by about two dozen a night. Great show, highly recommend it, but I've gotta believe the Baltimore Chamber of Commerce doesn't like it. I imagine the orioles just flap their wings, not realizing they share a name with a town nicknamed "Bodymore, Murderland"

IF YOU'RE IN MARYLAND YOU SHOULD: Apparently stay the hell out of Baltimore. If you're into the Civil War, and hey, who isn't, relive those golden days of yesteryear by strolling the fields at Antietam and ponder how exciting it must have been to be there during the dealiest battle of the deadliest war America's ever been involved in. So far. If you're a baseball fan, plan a trip for when your team is playing the Orioles. It's a guranteed win, and I'm told the area around the stadium is a lot of fun and reasonably safe, due in part to a police presence similar to the Green Zone in Baghdad. And don't even think of leaving the state without getting crabs. In fact, I know a girl...

MISS MARYLAND LOOKS LIKE THIS:

MARYLAND'S FLAG LOOKS LIKE THIS: I just think Maryland has a cool flag. Other people think it looks like someone threw up on a tablecloth. Both arguments have merit.

LIMPY'S CONNECTION TO STATE: Other than the rather sordid connection noted above, not much. I have driven through it a couple of times, and I would like to hit Camden Yards, and I watch "The Wire". That's really it.

HAS LIMPY GOTTEN LAID IN THIS STATE: I've gotten laid because of this state, but never in it.

That concludes chapter 4. Tune in next time when we'll discuss Massachusetts, home of those goddamn Red Sox.

Maine: You Can't Get There From Here

2007-12-12T20:15:00.000-08:00

Chapter 3 in "Know Limpy's States"

Before we describe Maine in all of its inbred glory, I want to mention that this series is based, (very, very loosely), on the National Geographic book "Our 50 States", by Mark H. Brockenhauer and Stephen F. Cunha, both of whom are surely fine, upstanding men who would be horrified to learn of their connection to this project. Their connection to these posts is primarily the order in which the states appear; that's why Connecticut came first and why we're sort of hopping all over the place. They have no sense of order. Also I get a few facts from them, but mostly I just make shit up or substitute my own opinions as "facts". I hope that clears that up.

At any rate, you can in fact get to Maine from here, wherever here happens to be. The people in Maine like to say "Yuh cahn't get theyah from heyah" however because virtually without exception they despise people from out-of-state, and would like you to leave as soon as possible, but only after you first buy some over-priced lobster-themed tkotcke from them. And after all, if they tell you how to get where you want to go, like say, Vermont, the odds are you won't buy it from them. They may hate foreigners, (i.e., residents of Canada or any of the other 49 states), but those Maine Yankees are damn shrewed business people.

Maine got a late start on things, probably because no one thought to go up to that godforsaken wilderness and ask, and was the 23rd state admitted to the union, entering on March 15, 1820. Maine was actually admitted to the union as part of the infamous Missouri Compromise of 1820, (coincidentally), in which Missouri entered the union as a slave state but Maine was admitted as a free state to keep things in balance. The fact that people were actually living in Missouri, while Maine was principally populated by semi-literate fur trappers who were on their way to Quebec seems to have escaped Congressional notice, thereby inevitably leading to the Civil War battle-cry "Remember The Maine!"

Maine is known as "The Pine Tree" state, based on its primary source of income, the continual rape of virgin forests to make toilet paper. Lately, however, the paper companies have been selling "huge tracts of land", (ten points extra credit for getting that reference), to private owners, thereby increasing the chance the Maine will soon be known as "The Get-The-Fuck-Off-My-Property" state.

Maine's state bird is the chickadee, which is an even bigger pussy than the robin. Seriously, this is a state with loons, hawks, eagles and herons and they picked the chickadee???

The state flower is apparently a "white pine cone and tassel", which I think technically is actually a tree seed. But horticulture isn't my strong point. I'm not sure anything else grows in Maine anyway, besides potatoes, and those are technically tubers and not flowers.

The highest point in Maine is Mt. Katahdin, clocking it at an impressive 5,268 feet abvove sea level. It also rises out of a fairly low elevation, so you'll be climbing most of those feet. I have made this climb, taking the steepest trail up, The Cathedral, because my father thought "it would be more of a challenge". Dad clearly forgot to factor in that he was climbing with two idiots, as both my brother and I went off the trail and nearly plunged 2,000 feet to what is really a very attractive Chimney Pond. Mt. Katadhin is located in Baxter Park, which I highly recommend backpacking through.

There are 1,305,728 people living in Maine. 1,305,000 of them live along the coast. There's a lot of room in the middle, and as a result some people fuck trees.

IF YOU'RE IN MAINE YOU SHOULD: Try the lobster. It's usually fairly fresh. Just don't pull up any of the colored buoys in the water to look at them. This ain't the supermarket, it ain't "pick your own lobster", and you will get shot. And no Maine jury will convict the lobsterman. If you get lost and wind up way up the coast in a town called Machias, try the scallop stew at a restaurant called Helen's. Get a side order of onion rings, which are probably the best rings I've ever head, and fuck the diet and get the strawberry pie for dessert. Get the whole pie too, you pussy, you can bring the leftovers home. Then say good-bye to an artery or two, but it's so worth it.

MISS MAINE LOOKS LIKE THIS:

I WISH MISS MAINE LOOKED LIKE THIS:

LIMPY'S CONNECTION TO STATE: Moderate-to-high. I've done a fair amount of hiking through The Pine Tree State, and I can attest that they do indeed have a lot of pine trees. My family also took a yearly vacation to Beals Island, which is way the hell up the coast and very closeto "can't get there from here" status. In college my favorite ex-girlfriend was from Maine. Very attarctive blonde who chewed tobacco and worked construction in the summer.

HAS LIMPY GOTTEN LAID IN THIS STATE: Surprisingly, no. Not even with a tree. I never did go to Maine with the girl, although I met her father once when he came to visit. He was roughly the size of your average black bear and could have pulled my arms off without breaking a sweat. For that matter, she probably could have as well. My brother did get a blow-job from a former "Miss Something or Other" during our last vacation up there, so I'm counting that as half credit.

Next up is Maryland and perhaps another boring story of how I lost my virginity.

Turn Around, You've Just Missed Delaware!

2007-12-09T20:31:00.000-08:00

Chapter 2 in "Know Limpy's States"

Delaware was the first state admitted to the union, ratifying the Constitution on December 7, 1787, which means two days ago was the 220th anniversary of the start of the United States of America. I celebrated by working late. The people of Delaware more than likely celebrated by getting drunk and yelling about how "we were the first state" this and "Delaware ratified the Constitution first" that, just like they're required by law to do every week anyway. Smug-ass Delawarians.

The chief fascinating fact about Delaware is that it's gone from being the first state to being a wholly-owned subsidiary of DuPont Co., a company primarily known for blowing shit up, something that comes in handy when you share a border with New Jersey. Picking up on this fact, many other companies have taken advantage of Delaware's corporate-friendly atmosphere to register as being based in Delaware, even if their only physical presence is an agent for service and a PO Box. Spend any amount of time in law school studying corporate transactions and you'll hear plenty about Delaware. If you're lucky, four years later you won't remember a goddamn thing about it. I think corporations are allowed to rape and pillage the area around their PO boxes every other Tuesday, but I may be mixing that up with the movie "Meatballs"

The state bird of Delaware is the Blue Hen Chicken. Which, when you think about it, is really, really gay. They also named the sports teams for the University of Delaware the "Blue Hens", leading to a massive inferiority complex before games even start. Actually, according to the book ("Our Fifty States", from National Geographic), the name in truth derives from a company of Revolutionary War Delaware soldiers who amused themselves by staging cockfights with blue hen chickens. The name is supposed to demonstrate fighting spirit, rather than a bunch of assholes with nothing better to do than molest poultry when they should've been fighting the British.

The state flower is the peach blossom. Delaware being known for its peaches and all.

The highest point in Delaware is an unnammed spot towering 448 feet above sea-level! I'm pretty sure I top that when I walk upstairs at night. There is a group of people who try to reach the highest points in all 50 states. I would imagine this is one knocked off while having lunch between New Jersey and Pennsylvania.

There are 817,491 people in Delaware.

IF YOU'RE IN DELAWARE YOU SHOULD: Ask someone who lives there what they do for fun. The book says Delaware has nice beaches and is a leader in conservation. Of course, one of it's shoreline wildlife refuges is bracketed by Slaughter Beach and Broadkill Beach, so it seems like there's a good chance you'll meet a guy in a hockey mask and wielding a machete if you do hit the beach.

MISS DELAWARE LOOKS LIKE THIS:

LIMPY'S CONNECTION TO STATE: Slim to none. I've driven/ridden shotgun through it, both ways, twice, going to a softball tournament in Virginia. Granted we were cutting out the northern half, but "blink and you missed it" doesn't seem much of an exaggeration in Delaware. I will say that the local state troopers were nothing but polite when giving my friend Julie her speeding ticket after she blew through a speed trap at about 85.

HAS LIMPY GOTTEN LAID IN THIS STATE: No.

That concludes Chapter 2 of "Know Limpy's States" Next up is the pride of the downeast, Maine. What are the odds I'll mention lobster?

Listen Up Fuckers!!!

2007-12-06T18:48:00.000-08:00

I've been running low on things to write about here, and I've been putting out what I consider to be half-assed entries just to sort of fill space and keep Tysgirl from slapping me, and not in a good way. Well, that's going to have to stop. So I'm starting what I hope to be a regular feature that should take up the next, uh, well, at least 47 entries.

It's called "Know Limpy's States" and will be based on all of the states in the country and my relationship to each one of them. Sound like a lame-ass idea? You bet it does, but I don't care. I can't think of anything else and someone we know just gave me a big glossy book about the states, and that gave me an idea and that means you're screwed.

Or you could just go read Soozie's blog, except she's quitting, so you're really kind of stuck. Plus I'll post nude pictures in some of 'em.

Anyway, to kick this feature off, we start with, well, whatever the hell one is first in this book, let's see here,

Connecticut? Really? Whay the hell would anyone start a book about the states with Connecticut? Oh well here we go.

CONNECTICUT

Chapter 1 of 46 in "Know Limpy's States"

Connecticut is the 5th state in the union, attaining statehood on January 9, 1788, a date now routinely ignored statewide. The capital is Hartford, a city widely known to be devoid of almost any nightlife that does not involve the active exchange of gun-fire. The current governor is M. Jodi Rell, who succeeded the former governor, John G. Rowland, after he got 9 months in the federal penitentiary for corruption. The largest city is Bridgeport, at just over 140,000, at least 127,568 of whom wish they lived anywhere but Bridgeport, a city in a state of almost constant "urban renewal", none of which, unfortunately, involves napalm. Bridegport's current mayor hasn't been sworn in yet, since he's being sued by the guy who lost the primary, said guy being in his 30's and living with his mother, the last mayor not running for re-election after, among other things, admitting to using cocaine while in office, (although if I were mayor of Bridgeport, I'd be mainlining heroin at the inaugeration), and that mayor having taken over from the previous mayor after he got 9 years in the slammer for corruption.

The state bird is the robin. As far as I know none of them have ever been arrested for corruption.

The state flower is the mountain laurel. Every year in June I hike up Bear Montain to try to catch the laurel at its peak, because it is a beautiful sight and because I am a huge homo. Most years I miss the peak. The one year I caught it made up for it.

There are just under 3.5 million people in Connecticut. Most spend their time complaining that there is nothing to do and how much cooler New York and Massachusetts are.

Connecticut is generally in the top two in the "richest state" category, depending on how well the mob is doing in New Jersey at any given moment. Most of that money is based in Fairfield County, and most of that money is in a town called Greenwich, which is mostly populated by incredibly rich assholes who declare a state of emergency whenever the Powerball lottery gets really big and the town has to deal with Negroes from nearby New York, (hey look, racist alliteration), who cross state lines and then stand in lines outside Greenwich stpres to try to buy lottery tickets so that they can someday live in town and bitch about people just like them. That actually happened a few years ago. Powerball went over $200 milion and New York didn't have it, so folks from NY came over the border in droves to buy tickets. Greenwich called out the cops to maintain order and actually asked the legislature for money based on a "state of emergency". I believe they actually got some.

The highest mountain in CT in Bear Mt., at something over 2,100 feet. But the highest point in CT is on Mt. Frissell, the peak of which is actually in Massachusetts. The state line is on the shoulder of the peak, so the highest point in CT isn't even a mountain top, but a spot on a hill "marked" by a rusty metal pole and from which there is no view. God we suck.

Connecticut is called both "The Constitution State" because it was once governed by something called "The Fundamental Orders, which later served as the model for the US Constitution, and "The Nutmeg State", because, well, no one really knows why, but it may have something to do with CT merchants being infamous for cheating in the nutmeg trade.

IF YOU'RE IN CONNECTICUT YOU SHOULD: Check your ticket to see what time your connecting flight leaves. If you're here, God help you, on purpose, you should check out:

Pepe's Pizza in New Haven. The white clam pizza is incredible, and I'm not just saying that because it sounds sort of obscene. New Haven is also home to Yale University and wandering around the downtown area is a lot of fun. Wandering around outside the downtown area is a really bad idea.

MISS CONNECTICUT LOOKS LIKE THIS:

LIMPY'S CONNECTION TO STATE: Huge. Couldn't be huger. Born and bred in CT. Educated in CT, mostly because all of the out of state schools rejected me, except two that wait-listed me and one that said I could go but then sent us a tuition bill that looked like a budget for a eastern european country. So I went to UCONN, which at the time was easier to get into than Britney Spears' pants after a narco-lollipop bender, and about as cheap. Now, thanks to the basketball teams winning about 8 national championships between them, UCONN is neither cheap nor easy to get into.

HAS LIMPY GOTTEN LAID IN THIS STATE: Yes.

That sums up Connecticut for now. Tune in next time when we discuss Limpy's connection to the alleged state of Delaware.

It's Like My First Dance, But With Rythm

2007-12-05T10:09:00.000-08:00

For white people, it's not that bad.

Hot Smart Chicks

2007-11-29T08:59:00.000-08:00

Tysgirl recently asked me, after that link to Heidi Klum brainlessly playing with her boobs, (really, for all I know Heidi could be a part-time quantum physicist when not modeling underwear, but I kind of doubt it), if I thought any smart women were hot, which seemed irrelevant to me since the link connected you to a picture of Heidi Klum playing with her boobs and that should be good enough, but nonetheless it led me to some soul-searching, which in turn led to the realization that I don't have a soul, and second led me to try to figure out who I think is the best combination of brains and beauty out there.

Ladies & Gentleman, (and the rest of you), I give you

Jennifer Connelly

Putting aside the combination of a Yale/Stanford education, (while I'm not sure she got a degree from either institution, she did get in, and I have to respect that, as the only way yours truly would be getting in to either of those places would involve a ski mask and bolt cutters), she's an Oscar winning actress who seems to have little problem shedding her clothing. She starred in one of my favorite movies ever, "Requiem For A Dream", which I think everyone should see as long as they know up front that they're ain't gonna be no happy ending for pretty much anyone in the film, and don't get to attached to Jared Leto's character. Also, Jennifer does a lesbian sex scene with a double-ended dildo that isn't the least bit hot. And I'm not even kidding about that. And if a movie and an actress can make me say that, well, it's either the worst porn movie ever and one of the actresses is actually a donkey, (don't judge me), or it's just a great, great film. Perhaps more importantly, Connelly's horse-riding scene from the movie "Career Opportunities"
might be one of the hottest scenes involving a fully clothed actress you're ever likely to see. Also that movie launched the stellar movie career of someone named Frank Whalley.

So anyway, that's my nominee for hottest smart chick. Feel free to submit your own.