I've had bacon on the brain today.  No real reason, just craving some bacon.  Which is strange, because I had bacon the other day...

So, in honor of today's obsession, I present this little ode to pork fat.

--------------------------------

Encrusted in pepper
Injected with syrup
Hung so the smoke from some
Hickory will add to
The flavor already divine

If you cook it too fast
It will burn, become brittle
Slow, over low heat
Is the way you should go

You can't rush perfection
For sandwich or breakfast
So plan ahead carefully and
You'll soon see why
That everything is better
With bacon to fry...

The temptation to put a snarky answer such as A dinner plate, a soup bowl and a sandwich plate is overcome by the idea that a food post that doesn't mention bacon, in all of its bacony goodness would be a real waste.

So, with the sound of bacon frying in my mind, and the idea in my head (and the phantom taste on my tongue), I offer these are three "dishes" I could live on/with for the rest of my life....

Bacon and Eggs (with toast and jam/jelly/peanut butter), oranges, steaming mugs of coffee and the occasional bowl of oatmeal.

Pancakes and eggs w/Bacon.  Preferably from the Cracker Barrel as their bacon is divine.

And the last "dish" is my wife.  She's the "dish" for me! 

Did you know that Bacon Is a Vegetable?  It's True!  You can even buy a t-shirt that says so!

I doubt this qualifies as my favorite memory.  It is, however, a lasting one. 

Some years ago, probably close to 20 or so, I was working at a radio station in Boonville, MO and my mother was living and working in Marshall, MO.  About an hours drive away to the west.  Not a trip I made a lot, but often enough over the years. 

Mother was a practicing psychologist.  She'd gotten her Master's Degree and went to work for the State of Missouri.  She liked her job and was pretty good at it.  She also had the unnerving habit of playing therapist with the family.  Whether they participated or not, that was the case.  She could explain why everyone was the way they were.  Or at least how she saw things in that regard.

I was fortunate.  I was given special treatment.  I got TOLD what my problems were.  Somehow, she was never at fault.  This didn't dawn on me until years later, but not at that time.  She was good at noticing things, and realizing that I was hurting a lot at the time.  In a lot of emotional pain, to be honest about it.  I was the problem child.  I freely admit that.  Caused all sorts of problems for my parents.  I lived in "interesting times" and had a...unique...set of parents.  They were not well matched.  However, they don't test for that or make people get licenses to be parents so you make do with what you have.

This particular visit was emotionally draining.  I know now that my mother meant well.  At least, I hope the hell she did.  Because she inflicted a serious hurting on me that day.  It went a little like this...

She'd just moved in to her place a month or so ago.  Nice apartment and I was there to hang pictures, hook up her stereo, and general Son stuff.  Help out your mother kind of stuff.  I got fed, and the food was always good so it was a win-win situation.  After the stereo got hooked up, out came mother's records and tapes.  We had a lot of the same taste in music (and some that was not at all the same) so she put on a record and we ate and talked and seemed to be having a good time.  After a while, the Neil Diamond came out.   Neil Diamond is one of two artists I strongly associate with my mother.  The other is Tom Jones.  He has nothing to do with this story...

Mother put on the Diamond album (Greatest Hits, if memory serves) and when a particular song come on, she asked me to be quiet and listen intently to the lyrics.  Ok...I can do that.  And I was fine until the chorus came around;

"I am," I said
To no one there
An no one heard at all
Not even the chair
"I am," I cried
"I am," said I
And I am lost, and I can't even say why
Leavin' me lonely still

Which pretty well summed up how I felt about life at the time.  And mother knew it.   It felt like a body blow.  I could almost literally feel the air rush out of my lungs, my confidence seemed to dribble down my leg and puddle on the floor.  I felt like a little boy who had just wet the bed (again...).  I felt naked and exposed.  I felt betrayed.

I felt alone.

Mother brought this to my attention, but offered no way for me to deal with it.  I had these issues, I felt isolated and alone.  Thanks for pointing this out, Mother...but now what the fuck do I do?

No practical answer that I can recall.

I went slinking home to my little hovel in Boonville.  It was a lonely drive.  The pain had been brought out into the open.  I had to deal with it somehow, so I started drinking a lot again.  Self-medication was always a specialty of mine.  I was good at numbing the pain through "medicinal" hooch.  I used it as as excuse for bad behavior.    I used it as an excuse to avoid dealing with the issues that caused the pain.  I ran away and tried to hide from myself.  However, when I woke up all hung, flung and slung the next morning, I was still there.  I couldn't get away from me.

I can listen to that song now and think to myself that it's a song of a very lonely man.  I know I'm not that person anymore, but those feelings took some time to deal with and get past.  I also wonder if that was my mother trying to tell me something about her.  In a Freudian way, of course...

Happy Mother's Day, Mother.  Wherever you are, and sorry it's late...

I'm a tomato.  Tomatoes come in all shapes and sizes, mostly round.  Some are longer than others, some are more wrinkled and then there are the cherry and grape tomatoes.  Lots of room for identity problems in being a tomato.  Room for diversity in being a tomato.

Did you know that calling a woman a tomato can be a good thing?  You can look it up!  It's also a slang term for a stupid person.  You can look that up as well.  Such a useful word and a useful plant.  I love tomatoes, but am not fond of ketchup.  Spaghetti sauce made from tomatoes is divine (HA!!) and tomatoes are wonderful in salads. 

Tomatoes are basic, simple and prevalent.  Most anyone can grow a tomato, most everyone likes tomatoes.  I like being a tomato.

And when I wear a large red sweatshirt, I feel like a tomato.  Which is why I'm trying to lose weight....

A two volume box set reprinting the original manga series as created and drawn by Tatsuo Yoshisa.  The packaging is very nice, two hardcover books printed from left to right, in a slip covered box.  The art work was restored, or most of it was.  There are places where the digital reconstruction wasn't done very well.  I'm guessing that was in places that were colored at one point.  Most manga is printed in B&W, with only a few pages of color at the beginning of a story, or two tone printing.  The first story has some color, then is B&W for the rest of the series.  The Japanese covers are included from the 2000 collections as they were originally issued in their native country.

The series itself is a bit different from the TV show as the focus is much more on Speed Racer than the Racer family like the TV show.  Their is also more violence than the US viewers remember, as Speed is quite the fighter.  Racer X turns out to be working with the police,  We see very little of Spritle or Chim-Chim as well.  The Americanized names we are all familiar with were retained in this edition.   Even though they have little to do with the Japanese version of the same characters.  (for more information about that, click here...)  So, while we get the stories as they originally appeared, they have the nostalgic Americanized names.  I'd bet it's to capitalize on the Adults who watched the series more than kids today who read manga.

Ah...the stories.  What can I say about them?  They were created to generate interest in the TV series, and they are middling at best.  The art is servicable, and even recycled in one instance.  Seven pages, dialogue and all to be exact!  Continuity is not apparent, as the stories just sort of leap about.  Racer X comes and goes, get introduced in the same way both times (the recycled pages) and the quality of the stories never rises about adequate.  Truly disposable entertainment.  Without the phenomenon that is Speed Racer, this series would be forgettable and forgotten.  And it's just that phenomenon that makes this collection worth buying and reading, or at least reading.  Fun, but not great.  Seeing a B level manga from that era alone is worth the cost of admission as most manga that comes over here is the cream of the crop.  There is so much that we just don't see, and that's probably a good thing.

I got too many books.  They are everywhere.  I got books on shelves, lots of shelves, I've got books in baskets, books in boxes, books in piles, and I'll bet there are some books buried under some green eggs and ham, said Sam I Am...

I've got book in a closet, books in a trunk, books in cabinets, books in drawers (but not with my drawers) and books almost everywhere I look.  I never thought the notion of too many books would descend on my home or my life.  But it has.  I've got too many of them...

What is really troubling is that I've been cleaning out the books for several years now.  But no matter how many go out, it seems they are breeding like rabbits or mice when my back is turned because there are more books than there was when I started.  And I can't keep them all!

Then...there are too many comic books as well...but that's another subject for another day.

1) What’s the last thing you put in your mouth?

Sushi
NC-17 Answer - REALLY!  Sushi...

2) Have you ever kissed anyone named Matt?

Nope.

2a) Have you ever kissed anyone named Matilda?

Yep.  5th grade, I think...

3) What does your last text message say?

"Congratulations, your service has been extended..."

4) What was the last song you listened to?

'65 Love Affair - Paul Davie

5) If you hated someone and got put in charge of their funeral music, what would it be?

The Best of Marcel Marceu

6) What did you do yesterday?

Worked, felt sick to my stomach, got my comics, slouched on the couch, found out some news that was both good and bad (don't ask, won't answer...)

7) What did you dream about?

I've no recollection...

8) Pick a scar on your body - what did you do?

Upper lip, left side, where I got the crap beat out of me when I lived in WI...got hit so hard that my eye tooth went clean through my skin/lip..

9) ?

Exactly....

10) !

I was just sayin' that the other day...

11) Last time you cried?

April 3...don't ask, I won't tell you.

12) Who’s your most religious friend?

My wife...the most devout, at any rate.  Bobby/i is probably up there as well...

13) Who do you trust with your life?

My wife.  Without question.  For some reason, she always has my best interests at heart. 

14) If you could change your name to anything what would it be?

Clarence Shithouse.

15) What would you do if someone told you that you were the most beautiful handsome person in the world and they would do anything to wake up to your face each and every morning?

What makes you think I don't hear that each and every morning?

16) %

Pop a 0 in front of that and you have the percentage of my chances of voting for Hilary....

17) Do you trust all of your friends?

If they is my friends, that goes without saying.  Otherwise, they are aquaintances I like a lot.

18) Would you move to another state or country to be with the one you love?

I already is...

19) Do you believe that everything happens for a reason?

I know that everything I do is for a reason.  Some good, some not so good...I don't know about everything else.

20) What are two things you would NOT tolerate in a relationship?

Jealousy and lack of trust.  Most everything else is negotiable.


21) Which one of your top friends do you think would make the best prostitute?

How the bloody hell should I know?

22) Who is the nicest person you know?

My wife.  Proof is that she puts up with me.

23) What is a goal you would like to accomplish in the near future?

Make it through the end of this month without filling out another stupid meme

THERE ARE A WHOLE BUNCH OF NUMBERS MISSING HERE.

28) If you were to wake up from being in a coma for an extended time who would you call?

My wife...

29) Would you make a good parent?

I was at one point...until circumstances changed.  (Don't ask, I won't tell you)

30) Where was your default picture taken?

I created in in Photoshop.  It took 12 seconds...and it's not a duck.

31) Honestly, what’s on your mind right now?

The sushi I had for lunch....

32) Who knows you the best?

My wife.

33) When is the last time you truly liked someone?

When I asked her to marry me.  I still do like her.  Nicest person I know...


34) What are your plans for the weekend?

Go to KC to our great nieces 2nd Birthday Party....

37) What’s your favorite saying?

"I Wish Cotton Was A Monkey" or "Ya Think?"

38) WHERE'S #38?

39) Have you ever punched a tree?

thinking...thinking....thinking.....ZZZZZzzzzzzz

40) Have you ever snuck out of your house/someone in your house?

Hell yes, when I was a kid.  And to get out of the house to Wal-Mart for late night shopping to surprise my wife...

41) How would you describe your relationship with your best friend?

My marriage...

42) Morning or night person?

I suppose....

43) Are you there for your friends?

When they need me.

44) Do you like to spend time with people?

I like people.

45) WHAT HAPPENED TO #45?

46) Are you a forgiving person?

For the most part.  Except when I'm not...

47) Would you ever share a girl/boyfriend with your best friend?

Nope....

48) Have you lost a friend recently?

Not that I can think of...

49) Are you talking to someone while doing this? Who?

Nope...not even myself.

50) Do you want a relationship right now?

I'm married...what do YOU think?

Pee....

I've a challenge....see what you can do with this writing prompt.  Post it here or a link to your LJ.  If you want to play, that is....

A shifting kaleidoscope of permanence deceives me


Have fun!

I'll try and keep this short.

Clinton and McCain both agree that a tax holiday on fuel is a great idea.  A wonderful way to help out the average schmuck and beat their chests about "DOING SOMETHING!"

Feh!

It's bull puckey politics, grandstanding and nothing more.

It's also hypocrisy in action as both knotheads are on record as supporting 80% carbon reduction by 2050.  How the hell lowering gas prices is going to do anything but by them some votes with other people's money is beyond me.

Don't be fooled.  This is a bad, very bad idea.

Thank you.

Ten of the best...(found on  the LJ ofkittyhunter )


1) Do you believe that you can change someone?
What an interesting question...this can be viewed in so many different ways.  I've changed diapers on family small and not so small.  No child should ever have to change a parents diaper, but you do what you gotta do, right. 

I agree with the notion that trying to change somebody is a zero sum game.  If they have annoying habits or attributes, you either accept that as part of who they are or you don't.  Serious and deep love isn't about finding the things you have in common, but more about dealing with the differences.  What challenge is there in getting along with somebody who is so close to they way you are?

2) If you could get married anywhere, money not an object where would it be?
the Church of St. Mary the Virgin, Aldermanbury, a 12th century church from the middle of London, redesigned by Sir Christopher Wren in 1677, that was relocated to Fulton.   Having been inside this church, and to a wedding there, it's lovely.

3) Do you wear glasses?
Except for sleeping, yes.

4) Are you loyal?
I'd like to think I am.

5) Have you hated someone in your family?
Heavens yes.  Took too much energy and I've found that it hurt me more than the object of my hatred.  Hate is hard work, I'm here to tell you.  Not worth it.

6) Would you ever make out with someone of the same sex?
ACK!  No!

7) Most visited webpage?
MyYahoo, Last.fm and this here mess.

8) Coffee or Tea?
Who is buying?  What time?  Either is good with me...

9) What was the last book you read?
The Glasswright's Apprentice by Mindy Klasky.  I have too many books.  I could probably not buy a book for two years and not run out of things to read...

10) Tell us something about you that possibly we don't know?
I treasure this little set of decorative thimbles that belonged to my late mother-in-law.  They are quite beautiful.

Without a doubt, my temper.  I have a wicked temper, and when I get mad all over, it's not a pretty sight.  Rational thought takes a vacation (actually, it runs and hides...like anyone with good sense) and I've done things in a fit of pique that have had last repercussions.  Couple all that with foolish pride and you have a recipe for disaster.

I do most anything I can to keep control of that temper, and to not take my anger out on those that aren't deserving of it.  That's not fair to them, and that's something that I used to do;  Blow up at people who did nothing to deserve it.

   Considered Fantasy, but more alternate reality to my eyes, it's the story of Rani Trader.  She's 13 and an apprentice to the Glasswright's Guild in a society built on the Caste System.  She ends up being in the wrong place at the wrong time and this begins her whirlwind adventure through this societally constrained world.

    The book was fairly well written, and Klasky uses a few unique descriptive phrases and passages.  The story is told solely around Rani, there are no cuts to other characters and the behind the scenes machinations.  We learn what's going on just as Rani does.  It's a very linear story in that regard.

    The biggest gripe I had was that everyone around her seemed to know more about what was going on than she did.  Since she was supposed to be the heroine of the story, this rang a bit false to me, until I got to the end of the book and realized she was but a buffeted puppet of both sides of the struggle in this story.  She did appear at times to be spending more of her time reacting than acting.  Then again, she is only 13.

    Klasky won accolades for this, her first published novel, and deservedly so.  She introduces a fun character in Rani Trader, who has a lot of spunk and spirit, and the less than brilliant decision making of a 13 year old.  In short, she rings true as a person.   While the writing isn't deft, or brilliant, it is workmanlike and effective at telling the story.  And Klasky has a good story to tell.   I can overlook the writing lapses (few as they are) for a good story.

If you like fantasy/alternate reality type stories, this would be worth the time.  Not the best book I've ever read, but far, far from the worst.  I'm on the to 2nd in the series...

I'd stopped to pick up a couple of sandwiches at the Subway (Eat Fresh!) on the way home.  That was to be dinner for me and my lovely bride.  Of to the right as I exited the Subway, is an Orcsheln Farm & Home store.  Which is exactly what it says it is.  There was a large yellow banner across the front of the store (the site of an old Gates of Hell (Wal-Mart)) that read "Chick Days." 

This means they have several horse troughs full of baby chickens.  Little yellow fuzzy chicks...scads of them.  Buy 'em by the bushel, it seems like.  And people buy them.  In town, mind you.  I've no idea what they do with them, but I would imagine that they raise them and eat them or hope for eggs.  Whatever, this happens every year.   This reminded me of something that happened several years ago.  I think I mentioned or alluded to it some time ago, and now is the time to tell the tale.

We live in a split level ranch style home.  Built in the early 60's and it comes complete with a mother in law apartment.  That's where I lived when I first moved to this address, and when Elaine and I got married.  After a while, the people who own the house had to move into town due to school for their kids, and we got to move upstairs.   Which left an empty apartment to rent. 

I had gone to a particular church for several years, knew many of the people fairly well, and was on good terms with most of them.  One of the men in church has a son named Jeff.  Jeff is a good kid, who like many people, has made some less than stellar choices in his life.  He was really trying to get his life back on track, so I recommended to our landlord (good friends, BTW) that he would be a good renter.  Jeff moved in and things seemed set for a while.

Not long afterwards, Jeff's girlfriend Amy moved in.  Our landlord wasn't thrilled, to say the least.  Can't say that I blame him, to be honest.  And Amy was a different sort.  A real back to the earth type.  She wasn't a hippie so much as just downright weird.  Rude as well.  Elaine and I weren't overly fond of her.  Jeff was fine, but she was a real piece of work.

Within a couple of months, she had dug up a small plot of ground for a garden.  Didn't ask anyone, just did it.   Then came the first of two dogs.  Both Rotweiller's.  Big, scary looking, slobbery and LOUD dogs.  The first one was Sarge.  I forget what happened to him.  The second was a puppy named Tank.  Tank was big as a puppy, I've no doubt Tank turned into a ginaurmous dog.  Tank ended up being turned loose in what was supposed to be our side yard because it was fenced in.  We weren't happy with that, either.  What happened next should have come as no surprise, yet it did.

One morning I went to take out the trash, and I elected to go out through the side door.  I didn't want to carry trash through the house if I didn't have to.  I was stunned when I saw a make shift chicken coop in our side yard.  Complete with fuzzy little baby chicks.  Bought at Orscheln's no doubt.  The entire operation appeared out of nowhere, at least to us.  When asked, Jeff told us they had been given the baby chicks by a family member and really had no choice but the keep them.  Sounded like bull puckey to me, but what are you gonna do?  We had free range chickens running around in our side yard.

For some reason the small population of baby chickens declined a chick or two at a time.  We figured that neighborhood cats were having dinner on Jeff and Amy, or it was racoon's.  The chicks changed from yellow to chicken color, but were still small.  Sort of the size of Cornish Game Hens.  But they were growing.

One afternoon, I looked in the side yard (we'd accepted that we were stuck with these free range chickens in our yard....we were waiting for the milk goat to show up next, to be honest) and there was Tank, taking a puppy nap.  He was tied up in the side yard, and the lead was short enough he wasn't going to get at the snacks chickens in the flimsy chicken coop.  The lead holding Tank wasn't very strong either.  It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what was going to happen eventually. 

It took a couple of weeks, but I heard some commotion in the side yard and went to investigate.  Inside the chicken coop, looking as pleased as the cat who swallowed the canary, was the puppy who swallowed the chicken.   With a little chicken foot sticking out of his mouth.  God help me, but I laughed myself silly...more at the stupidity of Jeff and Amy than anything else.  We'd told them, but they thought we were full of crap (like the side yard, and dog doo and chicken poo is a horrible mixture when it gets hot...) so they left their big, meat eating puppy in the side yard with a flimsy roll of chicken wire keeping the two apart.

A quick run downstairs to tell them that there dog was eating their chickens, and more guffaws followed.  Those poor doomed chickens.  Whenever I see that "Chick Days" sign, I think of the big puppy with the chicken foot hanging out of his mouth. 

I believe in ghosts.  The ghosts of those who have passed and haunt my memories, haunt my dreams, and that I can see clearly out of the corner of my eye.  That is, until I look at them straight on.  Then they are something else altogether.

I believe in the ghost of a chance.  The sliver of a chance that while the world around you is going to shit, somehow...someway, there exists the possibility of making chicken salad out of chicken shit.

As far as actual ghosts that haunt places and such?  Casper the Friendly Ghost is about as close to that as I get....

Recently, I clicked a link one the profile of one of my Last.fm friends.  It was to her Flixster profile.  I had to create one for myself.  Mainly because I like movies.  I don't adore film, don't consider myself a film buff but I like movies. 

Still, I like to share my opinion on things (Ha! That's a surprise, right?) and movies are fun to talk about.  So, if you are interested in seeing what I think about movies, check out my Fllxster profile.  If you have your own profile, friend me!  (did that sound as pathetic as I think it did?)

"Who knows...what evil...lurks...in the hearts of men?"

The Shadow Knows.....

Most people think of The Shadow as a character from an Old Time Radio program that ran for many years during the 30's through the 50's.  They would be right.

The Shadow was also a very popular pulp character from the 30's to the end of the 40's.  325 pulp novels were published, most written by Walter Gibson, all published under the Street and Smith house name of Maxwell Grant.

Nostalgic Ventures has been reprinting these fun adventure yarns, along the adventures of Doc Savage, The Man of Bronze.  Two yarns to each volume, and not in the original order, these books also have background articles by noted pulp historians Will Murray and Anthony Tollin.  They are most assuredly a labor of love and made to last.  Nicely done up in a pulp sized trade paperback, these books will be around for a long, long time.  Makes reading the original stories easier than trying to track down the expensive pulps.

So, Volume 7 contained two Shadow novels;  The Cobra and The Third Shadow.  Both written by Gibson and both linked by other characters trying to horn in on the Shadow's game for different purpose's than the Knight of Darkness.   Since the stories themself don't differ all that much in tone, style or writing, I'm going to handle both of them in one shot. 

The Shadow lives in a world of black and white.  Good guys are good guys and bad guys are downright evil.  The Shadow is merciful to those that warrant it, but woe to the evil doer who goes back on his word to The Shadow.  There is no nuance in the writing.  There are no shades of gray in the tales.  Crooks are crooks and they dwell in the "badlands" or "gangland" and are all fair game for the thundering automatics of The Shadow.  Justice is swift and sure, as there is no doubt due to the lack of any gray areas.

This Shadow doesn't pal around constantly with Margo Lane (although she does appear in some stories) and doesn't cloud the minds of men.  He blends into the shadows of the world around him.  Not acknowledged by the police, but tacitly accepted by them, it's a brutal world inhabited by The Shadow and the minions of the badlands.

Character development isn't present in these novels.  Purely plot driven, Gibson gives the readers a chance to catch their breath by recapping recent events and hanging a literary arrow to point the way.  Bullets fly, bodies drop and in the end, the sibilant laugh of The Shadow shows that "The Weed of Crime Bears Bitter Fruit...Crime Does Not Pay....The Shadow Knows......"

Part of the allure for such throwaway fiction is the very disposability of it.  It doesn't take itself too seriously, nor should you.  It's a dip into a view of the world where the good guys use the methods of the bad guys to ferret them out and dispose of them without fear of mistakes.  It wouldn't work in the real world, but one can dream...

Well, is sure as heck ain't Monday!

I decided that since I am at the point in my life where my cool-ness factor is irrelavent to anyone under 30, I don't care if I look like a doofus and decided to get a [sarcasm] Man-Sized Fanny Pack [/sarcasm].  So, I did some Google searching and found one that I liked.  But, the price wasn't so good.  I then decided to look for the same thing at Amazon.com and found it with a price I like better.

I BOUGHT IT!

 So there!  The return of the Fanny Pack can't be far behind!  (oh, that was a horrid pun...)


Would somebody pass the aspirin?  I pulled something doing that damned Happy Dance....