And the meeting got going when I pulled out my +3 battle ax

Sometimes I really miss Dungeons and Dragons. I think I'll ask for an XBox 360 and Everquest for my B-day/Christmas, so I can spend about an hour a day in a drooling cocoon, trying to figure out how to break the lock to the Temple of Cocoluchia.

I'd organize a playing group, but few people above 25 can play without laughing at themselves.

Notes:

• I'll be watching Friday Night Lights tonight, but I won't be live blogging. I now have NBC, but I also have a fear that the thing will just blow, and I'll feel obligated to keep watching. ("Find out what the critics are raving about!!" Usually translates into "Jump on the bandwagon of societal fluff disguised as serious blah-blah!!") Maybe next week.
• Losing sucks, sucks, sucks. But, while unhappy about the Tech-Texas game, I can at least take some solace that this team is getting better, not worse.
• Castor bean plants and elephant ears are poisonous, but try telling that to your dog.

In house

The locksmith, who came over to re-key the doors, was an Israeli immigrant in a woefully beat-up car. He immediately started making fun of our color scheme.

So, three days of moving, and we still gots a hellacious amount of work to do. On top of things like finding a job, doing about 20 different emergency house projects. And now we're broke.

Anyway ...

We're happy with the house. It was owned by a couple of gay men who wanted some place bigger to live, and is in more or less decent shape. They did some good things with the house: Pirgo on the kitchen floor, a nifty painted concrete floor instead of carpet. They also did some bad things. Some very bad things, as you'll see.

Here's our street.

We're out of view, but we're right across from the beat-up pickup truck, which does not move, ever. I've seen some people come out and work on it, but with much the same expression as someone playing solitaire. Progress doesn't seem to be a goal.

Here's the house.

A front-on shot isn't practical, as there's too much bushes and junk in the way. Daddy needs a chainsaw.

Everything's in but we've still got a lot of unpacking.

And for the most visually arresting aspect:

I was warned seven times before I saw it. "It has a purple fireplace." At the time, I didn't care so much, I was desperate to move. Now, it pretty much sucks all your attention to it. It's a living thing. Man.

So just to go over the house:

Yellow walls, purple fireplace, and a surprisingly subtle burgundy curtain.

Here's Kibby checking out the backyard, and wishing for something evil to happen.

How do I know she's hoping for evil? Because she's a cat.

The dudes who used to live here were heavy into gardening ...

I mean heavy. It's probably the best thing about the place, so far.

The only concern is trying to keep enough stuff alive for the time being, until we know what we're doing.

And for my favorite part. They left this behind in the garage. My geek blood started pounding into my brain when I saw this.

I just gotta figure out which end to look through.

No bloggy bloggy

Folks:

Me and the wife will own a house within the next 24 hours, and the moving preparations are taking up most of our time. I won't be able to do much here for the rest of the week. Until then, enjoy life. It's fun.

The Metaphorical Football League

Lead-in music queues, camera zooms into two men seated at desk. "MFL" logo behind them on TV Screen.

Announcer One: Hello and welcome back to the Metaphorical Football League. We have an early kickoff, so we’re taking you right to the first game of the day: the Vikings versus the Dolphins.

Cut to a field with a lot of obviously puppet dolphins lying there making precious squeaky noises. The horde of Vikings storms onto the field and proceeds to chop the dolphins to pieces with various pieces of medieval weaponry.

Announcer One: That was a fast game.
Color One: You know, I went out to Sea World this week, and saw a couple of dolphins tossing a little rubber football around. I gotta tell you I thought they would do better.
Announcer One: And we have an interview on the field.

Cut to field. A reporter is standing there with a Viking, who is holding a large ax, jovially talking to some other vikings.

Reporter One: Coach Skullbiter
Coach Skullbiter (Nordic accent): Yah
Reporter One: We notice that Thorn Lunderssongaaard, son of Broskander, sister-son of Hrothkin, was really tearing it up out there today. I mean, he killed a lot of helpless dolphins.
Coach Skullbiter: Yah, vell, you can always count on Thorny to play in every fight to the death like it could be his last.
Reporter One: Thanks coach. And congratulations.

Coach Skullbiter lifts ax above his head and moves to attack reporter one.

Skullbiter: AAARRRGGGHHHH!!!
Reporter (cringing in terror): AAAEEEEIIII!!!

Cut back to studio.

Announcer One: And for some highlights around the league: The Jets/Seahawks game came to a tragic end for both teams today.

Graphic shows a picture of a bird and a plane engine.

The Seahawks’ next opponents plan to change up their offense and buy one of those loud birdcall speaker thingies.

And another game, the three-team contest between the Lions, Bengal Tigers and Bears was cancelled when it was hit by what some forecasters are calling a monster-sized tornado.

Graphic pops up showing Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz, both hands hitting cheeks in gesture of surprise.

Color One: Oh my.
Announcer One: And now we’ll take you to another game already in progress, the Saints versus the Cowboys ...

Cut to scene of a bunch of dudes in hats and boots shooting their guns in the air, yelling yeehaw and kicking the crap out of a bunch of guys in monks robes.

Play-by-play One: And we’d like to welcome you to the Saints and Cowboys game, and what you’re seeing has been going on for thirty minutes.
Color Two: Not a pretty sight, Bob.
Play-by-play One: You’d think that ... (Lightning flashes) Oh, it seems that the Cowboys have earned the wrath of God ...

One cowboy bursts into flame. Maybe another one is hit by a meteor or eaten by some guy in a cheap lion suit. But most of them simply grab their hearts and fall over. The monks get back up and dust themselves off.

Play-by-play One: And they’re dead.
Color Two: That keeps happening.
Play-by-play One: I think the big question is, What happens in the post season, Dan? The Saints tend to fade, and by "fade" I mean get burnt at the stake or torn apart by horses running in opposite directions.

Cut to studio.

Announcer One: Thanks guys. And before we go to our feature game of the day we have a report from the Patriots game. Last week the Texans were able to dominate the Falcons, ... (Graphic shows a bunch of big men in cowboy hats and construction gear and motorcycle jackets) ... but it seems that this week’s team ... (Graphic changes to a group including a cheerleader, an extremely fat person, and dude with a surly look and "Keep Austin Weird" T-shirt) ... has not been that strong.
Color One: Yeah, the suburbs just aren’t pulling their weight down there.
Announcer One: And now we have some footage to show you of the Browns/Charges game. (Holds hand to ear) Wait, OK, we don’t have any footage. I’ve been told the stench hospitalized our entire crew.
Color One: Shoo-eee.
Announcer One: And now we’ll take you to our featured game of the day - the Buccaneers versus the Pirates. These seem to be two evenly matched teams that have posted similar records. So it should be a real fight. Let’s go there now.

Cut to scene showing two mobs dressed like pirates rushing towards each other on a football field, screaming and brandishing knives. When they meet at the 50-yard line, they began to aggressively make out with each other, though a few pair off to admire each others’ outfits. Cut back to studio.

Announcer One: Yeah, I think we all saw that coming.
Color One: Thank God they aren’t playing the Bronchos.
Announcer One: And thanks for watching this week’s edition of the MFL, we’ll see you next week.

PBS at 3 a.m.: Watching black people farm

Stumbled across this show last night. It's like when you see something from a strange culture that doesn't translate. In this case, the strange culture was Britain:

Can the countryside offer a way out of dead-end urban life?

Young Black Farmers, a three-part series, follows Wilfred Emmanuel-Jones, one of Britain's few black farmers, as he takes a group of nine inner-city school leavers from ethnic minorities on a life-transforming journey on his farm in Devon.

In a bid to reverse the segregation in the countryside that has prevented ethnic minorities from settling outside of urban Britain, Wilfred is launching a Rural Scholarship. Young Black Farmers documents the first of his 'rural rookies' during a summer living in a converted barn on Wilfred's remote 30-acre farm and embarking on work experience placements in the local community.

Wilfred has prepared a packed schedule for his students, including 4am starts, buying and selling cattle, sausage making, farmers' markets, tractor driving and a host of other strenuous activities that make up his daily routine. And the stakes are high – if they make the grade, two of the lucky students will be offered a job working for Wilfred.

I don't know if taking poor folks and making them farm in a country where acres are bought by the square foot is a good idea.

Some other observations:

• A black farmer is so rare in Britain that the subject gets its own TV show.
• Considering the state of agriculture in developed nations today, I'm thinking there's probably some other way "school leavers" can use their time to find a job that actually exists.
• England takes kids out of the city and tries to train them to be black farmers. Meanwhile, millions of already trained and struggling black farmers remain unemployed in Africa because Europe, and to a lesser extent the U.S., subsidizes the wazoo out of agriculture.
• "Sausage making." Heh.

And I'm done here.

(Sorry about the political nature of the last two posts. The upcoming move has me stressed and I'm in a wierd mood.)

Quick review: Thank You for Smoking

I randomly picked this flick as a time waster for a rain day, and had a great time.

Not because it's a great movie: It more or less isn't because the story, which purports to be a polemic on Washington lobbying culture, likes to take turns into la-la land. Some examples:

• It assumes that everyone reads the Washington papers. In my experience, the only people who read the Post are politicians and other journalists.
• The lobbyist star of the show often sounds like someone sincerely telling it as it is. As a professional courtesy, you'd think they'd come up with something else.
• Senators in the show are often so stunned by the things said to them that they are left speechless. Yeah, right.

Now, if you're thinking, "But I don't want to see a Senator give his usual full of B.S. response," you'll probably enjoy Thank You for Smoking.

Despite its faults, the show moves fast and makes the points it's trying to make with nice and easy, blatant obviousness.

And it also deserves a libertarian high-five for making a big tobacco lobbyist a sympathetic character, while not shying away from the aspect of his job that is pure evil.

I thought later that the point of this film might have been to make you realize, in horror, that you supported the hero. If so, it's over my head, which isn't a hard place to get to.

Anyway, decent, often funny movie.

State Fair

With Mer wrapping up negotiations for the house and me tired of looking for jobs, we took a break on Friday and headed for the State Fair in Dallas.

I took a few shots, and they sucked, by and large. This camera is useless for night pictures, plain and simple. Still, I've got my two favorites.

The Magum ride. Yes, it is a ride based on (decorated with?) the 1980s TV series "Magnum P.I."

Seleck seems to have added some baby fat here. Perhaps he's smiling that Harrison Ford's career has finally stalled. He also seems content, as if accepting the fact that the next biggest thing Magnum's ever going to do is date Courtney Cox on "Friends." Also, I see no presence of T.C. -- Which is lame, considering they have some whiney-looking white guy to Seleck's right.

I then looked in vain for the "Simon and Simon" ride, but no luck.

Still, I did find:

"Indiago," which is apparently Indiana Jones in a horrible shirt. That shade of purple would not have escaped God's wrath at the end of "Raiders."

Some rides I'd like to see

The Archie Bunker: You sit in your chair, making racist and sexist remarks to the delight of millions. You then throw stuff at Rob Reiner.

The Love Boat: Becomes monotonous after the first spin. The actor who played Gopher occasionally provides comic relief, if he's not too busy running the ride.

The Happy Days: You're given a hydraulic-powered black leather jacket, which you use to beat up Scott Baio.

The Silver Spoons: You get to pilot your own miniature train. Damn that thing looked fun.

The Diff’rent Strokes: Parents demand you ride, then take all your money. Spooky "Katy" mirror transforms you from cute to dead in seconds.

The Gilligan: Based on that episode where they almost got off the island.

Battle of the Network Stars: You’re given a headband and short-shorts, then you beat up Scott Baio.

Feel free to add your own.

Comment response:

To Dave:

I'm not saying Lone Star Beer has no honor. I'm just saying it has no taste.

Also, I realize what alma mater your wife lays claim too. But I personally think Mizzou's in for a TCU-style letdown this weekend. I'll add that it's possible I'm wrong, solely to cover my ass.

As far as to what Texas Tech will do this weekend -- I don't know. You'll have to call her.

To anonymous lawyer dude (heh):

Feel free to move down any time. You can live in here:

You can fix it up as you like, but you have to keep the '70s-era polyester vibra-chair there on the right.

And I don't know if Hico has any attorneys. There's an law office downtown, but it's always closed and the names on the door haven't changed in decades. I've started to think that if you walked in, you would find two skeletons, sitting at their desks, trying to figure out how to sue Studebaker.

Rain

Here's a couple of pictures, taken during a lull in this morning's storm. Damn I'm gonna miss this place.

Note: I'll probably not liveblog tonight's "Friday Night Lights" at 7 p.m. For some reason, NBC is dead on the TV here.

This isn't a big deal. I have just seen others liveblog and wanted to try. Still, I'd like to at least see an episode. I hear this thing probably won't last that long.

I only think about this football season on days that end in "Y"

Tech loses focus, game 38-21

Miami loses, again
Cowboys beaten to death by Eagles

United Supermarkets falls to Dave's Texaco

Folks:

I have an awkward announcement to make. Me and this football season are breaking things off.

She has broken my heart one too many times. I'm left picking up the many, many pieces of what's left my dignity. Don't get me wrong. We're both good people, but sometimes the mix, like a sophomore quarterback and his attention span, just can't hold together.

Here are the rules I'll be living with for the time being:

• I will no longer initiate contact with this football season. If this football season wants to send me an e-mail from time to time, fine. It's better if she writes about how life is sucking.
• I will accept no 3:30 a.m., Wednesday night phone calls from this football season. We both know it'll be incoherent blubbering for an hour, and the next day this football season will act like nothing happened. No more.
• Absolutely no booty calls. Unless it's bowl time and I'm really, really lonely.

I wish this football season the best of luck, but we'll just have to be strong.

Now, excuse me, I'm going to my room. I'll be in my bed, pillow over my head, listening to the Texas Tech fight song over and over and over.

Fight Raiders fight,

Fight Raiders fight,

Fight for the school we love so dearly.

Sigh.

Friday Night Light on bad memories

Speaking of song lyrics, the radio station I listen to at work has been playing "The Great Joe Bob."

At least it has been during the late, late night rotation when you're aware that everyone else listening is either stoned or coming down from a post-armed-robbery high.

Anyway, chances are you've never heard it. It's not a great song. The tune is very ohhm-pa-pa driven, and the subject itself is obscure. But the wierd thing is that the subject is close to my heart.

Here's the chorus:

He was the pride of the backfield,
Ahhh the hero of his day.
Yeah, he carried the ball for the red and blue,
They won District Triple-A.
An' his name made all the papers
As the best they'd ever had.
Yeah, so nobody understood it
When the Great Joe Bob went bad.

The song tells of the downfall of Joe Bob. I don't really care.

What's cool is that it's Lubbock-centric. He goes to Texas Tech. And the "Red and Blue" refers to Monterey's colors, my high school.

The tune even ends with a portion of the Monterey school song, played in a minor chord. It's enough to send me into a fetal position under a table, unable to contain my old, old shame.

For those curious, the song lyrics I found on the net were listed under Terry Allen. I have no idea if what I've heard lately is his version or what. It's an old song that I first heard at a high school assembly. I remember it well.

(Shudder/dive under desk).

A small truth

Lone Star Beer would cease to exist if it wasn't so handy for song lyrics.

Ramble ramble ramble

I feel like I'm going off into nowhere lately with this blog. What's with saying I'd liveblog something only to sleep through the show? I realize most of you probably didn't see that, as I was talking about football. And I always promised myself I wouldn't ramble on about football. And I don't even know where "Living in Sin" came from, other than an old Bon Jovi tune.

Too many distractions right now.

I'm pulling back for a bit. Will be back within a day.

Notes

Living in sin:
Me and Meredith have found a house. In Fort Worth, in the Keller School District. I’ll write more on this as I feel more and more confident about the deal. Tho I will say the fireplace is purple. (Not for long, that’s for freakin’ damn sure.)

The show begins tonight:

I have huge amounts of doubts about Friday Night Lights. (Or, as Conan O'Brian referred to it: The show where teenage boys stand out in a field and pose.)
Still, not a whole lot of shows are based in West Texas these days. I can only think of five off the top of my head.

I think I’ll live blog it tonight just for the hell of it.

Poooor Aggies:
Really, to a certain extent, I have sympathy. Losing like that is tough. Their fans are typically good folk. They aren’t scum, like those deranged lunatics of Baylor (cursed be their name!).

I was the only Tech fan in the bar, and the A&M people asked me to join them. I refused, as I hadn’t slept for about 24 hours, had had about two beers, and had no idea what might come out of my mouth.

It’s been fairly interesting to watch the reactions of Aggie fans this week. I still think Fran could save his job with wins over UT and OU, which is like saying, “Fran is toast.” It’s funny. My first reaction when they hired him was “Oh crap.” The man was hot. In every way.

To do some armchair psychoanalysis, he came to A&M thinking that he had landed a sweet cushy job that wouldn’t be as hard as his days at Alabama. Tech fans still remember a press conference, when, asked about the difference between the SEC and the Big 12, Fran responded that the SEC had no easy teams to beat. “There are no Texas Techs in the SEC.”

Nope, I guess not.

Still, I owe the guy a debt of gratitude. I was in Abilene while Fran and A&M were in negotiations. A sports writer at the paper wrote this mind bogglingly arrogant column telling A&M fans that Fran was playing them for a fool: He was just trying to get a bigger salary from Alabama and they were stupid for not seeing that. The column appeared the same day A&M announced they had reached a deal. The writer said that he didn’t go a week without someone bringing that up. Sweetness.

Morning walk

I haven't hiked around the farm for months. Planning for the wedding took too much of my mind, and walking around in the rough in the middle of August is not something that the sweatiest man alive really looks forward to.

The weather has cooled down, tho, and I recently figured out how to work this digital camera thing. It isn't a great camera, but I wanted to take it out and play with it. First lesson I learned: Wait until there is light.

Still, here are some of the shots, with a few explanations.

I mainly took this one so that I could show the red flowers on the pomegranate bush (in the front, left). We recently discovered the plant while clearing an area close to where a cabin used to be, meaning the plant has somehow managed to live on its own for at least 70 years. Now we can eat pomegrantes all the time. Hooray.

The dead cow.

We have several landmark areas on the farm: The island. The Big Oak. The Camp. This is the Dead Cow. It's been there now for about four years.

We had a guy leasing the property for cattle grazing. A cow died right next to our cabin. She was there for about a month, before my Dad ordered the guy to get rid of it. The dude responded by dragging the corpse about a quarter-mile down the road, where she has been to this day. She's gone from a pile of hide and bones to a slowly spreading out group of bones, according to God's plan.

Here, Ginger takes a nibble.

It's been a dry year. This is the Bosque River. Usually this section at least has a trickle. Now, nothing but rock on the river bed.

Animal tracks

Swimming at the river

The dogs react differently to water. When I first got her, Ginger would take off and then mysteriously show up later soaking wet. She was that determined to swim. Jimbo's always been more cautious.

Base of the old railroad bridge

About the time I got here, Ginger managed to burrow completely into a hole along the bank. I'd been letting her swim without a leash, against my better judgment.

After a bit I hear some barking, and a bit later two critters come flying out of the hole and dive into a pool of water. They were moving too fast for me to be sure what the were. I'm guessing nutrias. Ginger burrows out of the hole and jumps into the water after them.

After much yelling, I manage to get Ginger back on shore, back in her leash. We start walking back. Later I notice she's got a red spot on her side. Somehow, she's managed to get a series of holes on her left belly, in the shape of either a clawmark or a really big bite.

I've been cleaning it and keeping an eye out for infection. So far, it looks OK. Just another mass of future scar tissue that'll make people think I torture my pets with battery acid.

Damn dog.

WHOOOOOOO!

This isn't a sarcastic post. That would have been "Whooop!" or some such.