I just downloaded the WordPress ap to my phone and “supposedly” I can post quick blogs on the go throughout my day… Like when special things happen…
Like when I just saw Ginny and Diaman enter the bacchanal area arm in arm.
So this is a quick post. I…um…gotta go and … Check on them. Yeah. That’s right! I gotta check on them.
Good Morning Campers,
Welcome to the Memorial Day weekend Blowout!
Just like we do every Memorial Day weekend, we have a huge mythical, magical, mundane (M3 or M cubed [we used to say 3M but we got into all kinds of trouble with logo rights and stuff with the actual 3M company so we stopped]) bar-b-que, party and orgy. All of you patrons have been sent an invitation with coordinates to your closest portal and the portal settings to arrive at the party.
I have to warn you. There are certain rules that MUST be followed when using the portal settings. Please pay close attention to the following:
· They can only be used once. (We will see to it that you can return to your home realm when you are ready to go.)
· They are keyed only to you! Not to say that you can’t bring someone with you, but anyone you bring will be tagged with your tracking information.
· Anyone you bring with you is YOUR responsibility. There are very few rules once you get here, but if someone you bring ends up being a bore, a liberal, a democrat or an outright ass (but I repeat myself) they will be harshly dealt with and it will reflect badly on you up to and including you in whatever punishments the council deems. (See the punishment section further down)
· If anyone tries to use your settings without you being there, they will be transported to a random location in the 666 realms. (and that is not six hundred and sixty-six that is six to the sixth power, and that raised to the sixth power ~ see Robert Heinlein’s Number of the Beast for more information on the realms) (It ends up being a number 1.03 with 39 more digits behind it. Looks something like this: 103,144,247,984,910,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 all of those zeroes are numbers of one kind or another, but honestly, who cares at this point. It’s about the same amount that our national debt will be by the time Obama leaves office.) (Okay, I looked it up… ahem… one hundred and three duodecillion, one hundred forty-four undecillion, two hundred forty-seven decillion, nine hundred, eighty-four nonillion, nine-hundred, ten octillion. We could round it off to a hundred duodecillion.) (Okay, I’m really done this time.)
· Return transportation is allowed at any time by anybody, but it is a one-way trip. If you just have to leave for something that is more important than this weekend (I can’t imagine what that might possibly be, but I assume in all the possibilities in the multi-realms there just might be a few things) then you MUST speak with a senior staff member to arrange a new code to use to return. I would definitely seek out a sober senior staff member otherwise you might not return to this destination. (see the fourth bullet for those possibilities)
· If one of your party members is banished and through some great excuse given to the council who buys it (see more about the council below) senior staff will NOT help you find that individual without substantial bribes or favors being paid.
· No. Before you even think of it, this is NOT a convenient way to get rid of an unwanted spouse, business partner or enemy. There are ways to tell and we will use them to determine the truth in the matter.
· Council…the council will be made up of 4 random party goers (and one senior staff in the case of ties, if needed) on a rotating basis. In the easiest way to explain it: If a council is needed, a special bell is rung on the empty council table which casts a spell and 4, randomly chosen party goers are teleported to the council table. Their level of sobriety and nakedness does not matter. You can imagine if a council is called against you and one of the members is engaged in the bacchanal (look it up) and is teleported say in mid thrust and appears at the council table, I’m not sure your case will be heard in the most dispassionate of minds.
· The council will hear the charges and make a decision of punishments. Or the punishment wheel can be spun and a random punishment can be given. The decision will also be made as to the punishment, if any, the person who brought the offender shall suffer.
· The decision of the council is final and the council members themselves, as well as the hosts, senior staff or any member of DL&LL Enterprises, will hold no liability, implied or otherwise in the outcome of the punishments.
· Punishments can include:
o Public humiliation of the council’s choosing
o Dancing with the Gorgon
o Matching drink for drink with Lethal Leprechaun
o Public duel to first blood or death (weapon choices can include anything from marshmallow guns to 30 mm cannons)
o Being the subject for the spell casting contest for the junior witches and wizards contest.
o Banishment to a random or specific realm
o Expulsion to leave the party
o Being Impish’s plaything for a set period of time, not to exceed the length of the party
o Being the Valkyries’ hunting target
o Then on the wheel there will be a couple of others not mentioned here, including at least one get out of jail free card
That’s the outline of the rules in a nutshell. So, really, other than pissing somebody off, espousing beliefs or practices that are unlikely to find favor amongst the guests, breaking the golden rule with any of the guests or just being an ass is about the only way you can really get yourself in trouble.
The problem is, that as soon as you add alcohol and people, silly things are going to happen.
Cheating at any of the games or contests will not get you in trouble… unless you are caught.
Some of the activities that haven’t been mentioned already include the volleyball tournaments, both nude and clothed. Several different games of chance and several forms of poker.
On Sunday night, we will all be magically transported to the National Memorial Day Concert in its many different locations. This is an annual concert and presentation, honoring our men and women in uniform that is put on every year. For more information, she the special breaking news portion later in the issue. For those of you who are not attending the Memorial Day blowout here at our facilities, you are HIGHLY urged to tune into it at home.
Lethal will be showing off some of the new facilities here at our new recreation center. The tour will take place on Monday in conjunction with his very special and always marvelous Memorial Day issue. I promise you, it will be a part of the weekend you will not want to miss!
There will be a Ken tournament for the fans of the School of Magic Series and a Quiditch tournament for the Harry Potter fans. I understand the younger ones will be entertained with capture the flag as in the Lightning Thief series and a One Ring hunt for the really little ones.
All of the children entertainment will be held in separate age appropriate areas with complete and total non-access to the adult area, so please don’t worry about your younger ones, I understand that Alice, Tick-Tock, and the Rabbit will be the leaders in the youngest children’s areas and appropriate age identifier supervisors will be available for the older children. I understand that Luke Skywalker and Obi-wan will be in attendance.
Parents will have free, unlimited passage from realm to realm to check on their children, but will be required to sign a non-aggression form for any punishments meted out to your lovely kidlets while in attendance.
As you may realize, this is the first time we’ve allowed minors to one of our functions and we’ve taken GREAT pains to give them both a safe and secure play area as well as positive role models as supervisors. We ask you to do your best to brief your children on your expectations (which hopefully match OUR expectations) for this to continue to be a great weekend event for the whole family. Please make your children understand that other creatures are not to be prejudiced against. Although, we’ve found that it’s not normally in a child’s nature to hold outward appearances against somebody (unless they are taught by parents at a very early age and then those are not usually the type of parents we have in attendance here anyway) but the adults whom we have problems with.
As I’m beginning to wax long in this opening, let me just say now:
Let the festivities begin!
Government Secrets? Hidden places? Global Conspiracies? Yup, we do that!
The religious cowboy lost his favorite Bible while he was mending fences out on the range.
Three weeks later a cow walked up to him carrying the Bible in its mouth.
The cowboy couldn’t believe his eyes. He took the precious book out of the cow’s mouth, raised his eyes heavenward and exclaimed, “It’s a miracle!” 
“Not really,” said the cow. “Your name is written inside the cover.”
National Memorial Day Concert – An American Tradition Honoring Our Servicemen and Women
On the eve of Memorial Day, a star-studded lineup will grace the stage for one of PBS’ highest-rated programs. For over 25 years, this multiple-award-winning television event has honored the military service and sacrifice of all our men and women in uniform, their families at home, and those who have made the ultimate sacrifice for our country.
The 26th annual National Memorial Day Concert will feature uplifting musical performances, documentary footage, and dramatic readings that honor the military service of all our men and women in uniform, their families at home, and those who have made the ultimate sacrifice. One of PBS’ highest-rated programs, the multi-award-winning television event has become an American tradition, featuring a star-studded lineup performing in tribute to all Americans who have sacrificed for our country.
The program will be co-hosted for the tenth year by Tony Award winner Joe Mantegna and Emmy Award winner Gary Sinise, two acclaimed actors dedicated to supporting veterans and troops.
The concert’s mission is to unite the country in remembrance and appreciation of the fallen and to serve those who are grieving Executive Producer Jerry Colbert says, “We think of the agony of the mother or father who lost a child, the spouses and children left behind, the people who are wounded in body and soul. And we do this memorial service to remember and reach out to them. We must remember their sacrifices and continue the mission set forth by Abraham Lincoln to ‘care for him who shall have borne the battle, and for his widow, and his orphan.’”
Happens to me all the time! Lethal doesn’t like it that I burn so many, but how else am I supposed to stay safe?
A very “artsy” picture of me done just recently in my full on dragon form. I think I really look good in this one. Nice and mean!
I’m going to reveal a commonly known chapter of The Man Book. This is the book that all men get upon entering adulthood and we are expected to have with us for every monthly meeting. I know I may get in a little trouble for this at the next man meeting, but I think the overwhelming good it would do would be a much better pay off.
Yup! Me too!
It is still very early in the festivities when the first council is called. You just happen to be near the council table when suddenly four people appear seated behind it. You don’t recognize any of them, but you do notice that two of them, a man and a woman, seem to be quickly adjusting their clothing. That could have been quite embarrassing ten minutes from now.
A teleprompter pops up in front of the first person to the left, as a camera rises up out of the ground, almost knocking you over, to record all the events. The man begins reading from the teleprompter:
“um. Ah .. okay, ahem. This is the first calling of the council. The council is officially in session, will the member accuser step forward and state his case.”
A man, dressed in what appears to be a very formal looking kilt and dress shirt, steps from the crowd that is forming and approaches the front of the table. “Aye, I pushed the damned button. This one.” He pulls another man from the crowd, who seems to have had his once quite neat suit and tie pulled from his top. He attempts to straighten his tie and shoots his cuffs and when he does, several playing cards fall out of the sleeve of his jacket.
The kilted man bends over and roars with laughter, “So, do ye think I need explain of his cheatin’ shenanigans at all? Seems to me he just proved it hisself!”
The crowd laughs and the suited gentleman has the good thought of looking abashed at his actions.
The first council member says, “I assume he is charged with cheating at cards. A despicable act in any realm.” The other man and one of the women nod in agreement. The second woman seems as though she wants to ask a question.
A microphone rises up in front of her and she jumps back startled with a high pitched squeak, but soon leans forward and asks, “Kind sir, why is it you felt it necessary at this festive occasion to cheat at cards?” And as she does so, she waves her hand in a very slight gesture.
The suited man answers quickly, ” Because that is what I do. I am a professional card shark, gambler and cheater. I go from town to town and cheat as many people as I can out of their hard earned money.”
The crowd goes silent as the man slaps a hand over his mouth and looks aghast. You can hear him mumble behind his hand, “Why did I say that?!”
The second lady answers in a tiny high voice, “Because, dear sir, I cast a little truth spell on you so that whatever question I asked next you had to answer in complete honesty.”
The second man speaks up, having been silent up to this point, “What sort of latitude do we have in assigning punishment to this weasel? I dare say, I’m all for throwing the book at him.”
The first woman speaks up and says, “Yeah! Throw the book at the fucker!”
The second man replies, “Yes, quite. What she said.”
The magical woman says, “Oh, I think spinning the wheel and allowing karma to decide his fate is more than fair enough for someone who stole so many others futures.” And the look in her tiny eyes shows all that an extraordinary intellect and age resides in the small, squeaky body.
The teleprompter lights up to the head council man again and he reads, “It has been suggested that we spin the punishment wheel for this accused, all in favor show agreement by the raising of the hands”.
All four members of the council as well as several members in the crowd, not understanding the process completely, raise their hands.
At that, a giant wheel with many pins around the side and many different punishments, in writing too small to see from your position in the crowd pops up in front of the accused. Without him touching it, the wheel begins to spin faster than the eye can see. It seems to take a very long time for it to slow down and while doing so, the suited man seems to be growing smaller within himself and the terror on his face is quite obvious.
Meanwhile the kilted man is standing to the side, arms crossed across his chest, just watching.
Finally, the wheel comes to a stop and the head man reads from the prompter. “Will the accuser please read the punishment to the accused.”
The kilted man walks over, peers at the selected pie slice of wheel and intones in a somber voice, “It says, ‘You will be the centerpiece for the wild hunt to take place at midnight tonight. You have between now and then to put your affairs in order or to run and hide, not that that will do any good.'”
The head man reads from the teleprompter, “Ah… is that … um… is that acceptable to you, sir, as the accuser?”
“Aye,” the kilted man says. “It ’tis.”
“And is it acceptable to the council?” He looks across at the other three, who all nod their heads in agreement.
The first lady mumbling, “The fucker…hey, what’s the Wild Hunt.”
The magical lady leans over and whispers, “Oh honey, they are just the most adorably savage men you ever have seen. You just don’t want to get in their way unless you are naked and in bed.”
The first man then says, “This council session is now adjourned…” and before he can quite finish the sentence with a proper full stop, the four disappear to reappear moments later where they began.
The crowd slowly disperses while the suited man looks around himself in shock. You can’t help but think to yourself, ‘Cheaters never prosper’ as you too continue on your way.
I’m pretty sure this is Paul’s definition…
Then your friend asks you, “Are you having it catered?”
That, my friend, is the definition of OLD
Bob had finally made it to the last round of the $64,000 Question. The night before the big question, he told the Emcee that he desired a question on American History.
The big night had arrived. Bob made his way on stage in front of the studio and TV audience. He had become the talk of the week. He was the best guest this show had ever seen. The Emcee stepped up to the mike.
“Bob, you have chosen American History as your final question. You know that if you correctly answer this question, you will walk away $64,000 dollars richer. Are you ready?”
Bob nodded with a cocky confidence – the crowd went nuts. He hadn’t missed a question all week.
“Bob, your question on American History is a two-part question. As you know, you may answer either part first. As a rule, the second half of the question is always easier. Which part would you like to take a stab at first?”
Bob was now becoming more noticeably nervous. He couldn’t believe it, but he was drawing a blank. American History was his easiest subject, but he played it safe.
“I’ll try the second part first.”
The Emcee nodded approvingly. “Here we go Bob. I will ask you the second half first, then the first half.”
The audience silenced with gross anticipation…
“Bob, here is your question: And in what year did it happen?”
Thanks to Papa Dragon Most Senior for this one…
Italian Bakery in New Jersey
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Don’t you love those Italians? Calandra’s Bakery, a famous bakery in Newark… Is freedom of speech great or what? |
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Remember when Barack Hussien Obama said to small business owners, “You didn’t build that.” Well, this guy tells him otherwise. |
Gotta love a girl with her horse…
This age old argument has been going back and forth since there’s been men and women. Thanks to Ginny for this one that’s called:
Glad To Be A Man and Glad To Be A Woman
I’m glad I’m a man, you better believe.
I don’t live off of yogurt, diet coke, or cottage cheese.
I don’t bitch to my girlfriends about the size of my breasts.
I can get where I want to – north, south, east or west.
I don’t get wasted after only 2 beers,
and when I do drink I don’t end up in tears.
And I don’t go around checking my reflection
in everything shiny from every direction.
I don’t whine in public and make us leave early,
and when you ask why get all bitter and surly.
I’m glad I’m a man, I’m so glad I could sing.
I don’t have to sit around waiting for that ring.
I don’t gossip about friends or stab them in the back.
I don’t carry our differences into the sack.
I’ll never go psycho and threaten to kill you
or think every guy out there’s trying to steal you.
I’m rational, reasonable, and logical too.
I know what the time is and I know what to do.
And I honestly think its a privilege for me
to have these two balls and stand when I pee.
I live to watch sports and play all sorts of ball.
It’s more fun than dealing with women after all.
I won’t cry if you say it’s not going to work.
I won’t remain bitter and call you a jerk.
Feel free to use me for immediate pleasure.
I won’t assume it’s permanent by any measure.
I’m glad I’m not capable of child delivery.
I don’t get all bitchy every 28 days.
I’m glad that my gender gets me a much bigger raise.
I’m a man by chance and I’m thankful it’s true.
I’m so glad I’m a man and not a woman like you!
I’m Glad I’m A Woman!
I’m glad I’m a woman, yes I am, yes I am.
I don’t live off of Budweiser, Beer Nuts and Spam.
I don’t brag to my buddies about my erections.
I won’t drive to Hell before I ask for directions.
I don’t get wasted at parties, and act like a clown.
And I know how to put that damned toilet seat down!
I won’t grab your hooters, I won’t pinch your butt.
My belt buckle’s not hidden beneath my beer gut.
And I don’t go around “re-adjusting” my crotch,
or yell like Tarzan when my headboard gets a notch.
I don’t belch in public, I don’t scratch my behind.
I’m a woman you see-I’m just not that kind!
I’m glad I’m a woman, I’m so glad I could sing.
I don’t have body hair like shag carpeting.
It doesn’t grow from my ears or cover my back.
When I lean over you can’t see 3 inches of crack.
And what’s on my head doesn’t leave with my comb.
I’ll never buy a toupee to cover my dome.
Or have a few hairs pulled from over the side.
I’m a woman, you know-I’ve got far too much pride!
And I honestly think its a privilege for me,
to have these two boobs and squat when I pee.
I don’t live to play golf and shoot basketball.
I don’t swagger and spit like a Neanderthal.
I won’t tell you my wife just does not understand,
or stick my hand in my pocket to hide that gold band.
Or tell you a story to make you sigh and weep,
then screw you, roll over and fall sound asleep!
Yes, I’m so very glad I’m a woman, you see.
Forget all about that old penis envy.
I don’t long for male bonding, I don’t cruise for chicks.
Join the Hair Club For Men, or think with my dick.
I’m a woman by chance and I’m thankful, it’s true.
I’m so glad I’m a woman and not a man like you!
Today’s Last Word comes to us from my buddy Wheats. It’s a two-part issue. The first one is a quote he found on one of the many websites he frequents, and it speaks for itself.
Nicely said and quite salient.
This next one is a news item from his neck of the woods.
A great story from York, South Carolina, where Peyton Robinson, a senior at York High School, fought back against a school administration who wanted to force him to remove two large flags from his pickup truck bed — the American and POW-MIA flags.
Robinson’s truck is known throughout the county as he proudly displays those flags in his travels. He’s a volunteer firefighter, a bull riding enthusiast, a devout Christian — and someone willing to stand up to the politically correct school administration that sought to curtail his free speech rights.
On Wednesday, May 13, he was pulled from class and sent to meet an administrator in the parking lot, where he discovered his flags had been removed and placed in the bed of his truck. He was told by school officials, “Do not return to school with these flags.”
After school, Robinson drove home, re-mounted the flags, and decided that he was not going to allow anybody to mess with his truck, or his patriotism. He posted a photo of the American flag in his truck on social media with the promise: “Still flying, and it ain’t coming down.”
What happened next warms the cockles of the heart:
When word got out around York County and the town of McConnells, Robinson’s hometown, that one of their own was going to take a stand for the American flag, folks came from every direction to support him.
On Thursday, An impromptu parade of more than 70 vehicles filled with flag-waving friends, classmates, and local patriots made its way through town and then parked in front of the school for a demonstration, country-style.
The story topped the news all over this conservative-leaning South Carolina county, and was soon picked up by national media.
Robinson told a radio reporter that school officials gave him three different reasons for their anti-flag action. “First they told me that somebody had complained about it,” he said. “Then they said there was a rule against flags. Finally they said it was a safety hazard.”
The school’s superintendent, Vernon Prosser, cited a ‘standing policy’ against flags, but Robinson said no official policy was ever produced, and flags are neither mentioned in the student handbook nor on the school’s website.
“I’d understand if it was the Confederate flag or something that might offend somebody,” Robinson told WBTV news. “I wouldn’t do that. But an American flag? That’s our country’s flag. I have every right to do it.”
We see this sort of thing all the time in other idiotic incidents of school administrators arbitrarily enforcing political correctness. They claim there’s a written policy when there isn’t. They claim someone might be offended and nobody is. And then, when forced to change direction, they say they supported the action all the time.
“We appreciate the passion and pride of all who have called or come by YCHS over the past 24 hours,” the statement read. “America was founded by patriots who led positive change in a myriad of ways. We believe today is a great example of peaceful demonstration leading to positive change.
“This is the very process we advocate in our Social Studies classrooms and the fabric of American citizenship. Thank you for helping us as we educate the students of our community.”
Maybe there’s hope for the next generation yet.
Read more: http://pjmedia.com/tatler/2015/05/16/dont-mess-with-this-young-mans-american-flag/#ixzz3auXDEfE0
Good on you, young man!
We are (ok so at least one of us is) Professional Bloggers!
I’mma keep this short cause I’m not in a good mood and crunched for time. I’ve got this issue to finish (which Impish walked through all all over stealing parts of it despite my having called dibs), the Memorial Day issue (again for which I wind up through ‘circumstances beyond anyone’s control’ SOLELY responsible for) and the regular issue that comes two days after that. This of course not counting having to have Impish’s back for his Saturday issue in there as well.
Over worked, over stressed, under numerous too short deadlines, under paid and under appreciated by the majority of the readership, that’s what I am. Anyone noticed how far off the votes for the issues have fallen after we stopped harping about it? I need a vacation and have a serious case of the blues (for which B.B. King is no longer a cure) over it because due to Molly’s prolonged work absence we can’t take one this year. We didn’t get one last year because we were going to use it and the funds for one to move which fell threw at the last minute.
Now if you’ll excuse me, my uniform has some how suffered from Molly’s penchant for coating everything w/in a 5 foot radius of her in baby powder when she applies it despite being zipped up in a suit bag. I’m off the the cleaners with it after vacuuming it.
NO WONDER R2 was always so energetic and perky!
Sadly Molly has no sister and if you apply this line of reasoning to her 2 cousins that are nearest to her in age then this place is serving Ice Coffee with Tabasco in place of sweetener. I’d rather cross the field of a PO’s bull than lock horns with either of these mean azzed heifers! Imagine a nice girl like Molly having to bear the shame of having 2 liberal entitlement minded female relations!
As you can see Impish is busily acquiring hidey holes on his own now that I got him started.. This is his latest acquisition, a grotto and cave complex:
As you can see its not totally uninhabited. When I pointed this out to him his response was:
“What do you mean? Oh! You talking about my sun sun toasted coconut oil marinated free range snacks?”
UGH! Why do I even TRY?
What’s that? Why yes, I did ha[[en to come across another one for me this week. And I think my view at least matches the one Impish’s place provides:
Apparently this really works well, especially on fire ants! (I’ll bet Krylon loves this plug.)
A retired engineer from Naples, FL swears this works. Go to Home Depot or Wal-Mart and buy a can of black spray paint. Krylon seems to work the best.
Stir up each ant mound and the area around it with a stick. The ants will emerge by the thousands to defend their mound. Spray each mound and the surrounding area, making sure you get plenty of paint on the ants as well.
Once the ants realize they live in a black neighborhood, they quit working and start killing each other.
Bet its even more effective if you paint half black and the other half blue like cops! Actually ants breathe through their shells so you’re suffocating them in addition to polluting the ground. No doubt that some do attack others because they can no longer distinguish their scent and think they are invaders. Still funny none the less.
James Earl Jones’ vocal performance as Darth Vader is one of the most iconic of all time. Everyone can instantly imagine that voice saying “I am your father.” But what if somebody else had played the voice of Vader? No, I’m not talking about Orson Welles. Hear what it sounds like when the voice of Winnie the Pooh tries his hand at the Dark Lord of the Sith.
Felt a need Monday night for some smoked Buffalo style hot wings and a Mesquite Grilled Blue Cheese Bacon Mushroom Steak Burger. That’s Molly’s Pino Grigio (she had a grilled chicken sandwich hence the white wine). The rest of us are drinking from those tall mugs which is Sprite mixed with homemade Lemon Drop Moonshine we snuck in the place.
Total Time: 35 min
Prep: 10 min
Cook: 25 min
Yield: 4 servings
Level: Easy
3 tablespoons canola oil
4 boneless skinless chicken breast, rinsed and patted dry
Salt and pepper
2 (16-ounce) cans pinto beans, undrained (recommended: Bush’s)
2 (10-ounce) cans Mexican diced tomatoes (recommended: Ro’Tel)
1 tablespoon low-sodium fajita seasoning (recommended: The Spice Hunter)
Heat the oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat
Season chicken breasts with salt and pepper. Place in the skillet and sear about 2 minutes per side.
Place pinto beans in the bottom of a 5-quart slow cooker.
Remove chicken from skillet and place the in the slow cooker on top of the beans. Pour the tomatoes over the chicken and beans and sprinkle with fajita seasoning. Cover and cook on LOW setting for 3 to 4 hours.
Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Heat the oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Season chicken breasts with salt and pepper. Place in the skillet and sear about 2 minutes per side. Place pinto beans in the bottom of a 9 by 13-inch baking dish. In a medium bowl, stir together diced tomatoes and fajita seasoning. Remove chicken from skillet and place in the baking dish on top of beans. Pour the tomato mixture over the chicken and beans. Cover with foil and bake for 25 minutes or until the chicken is tender.
I’ve done it in a Stove Top to Oven to Table Cast Iron Dutch Oven as well simply by taking the seared Chicken breasts out to place the Pinto Beans in and then placing the chicken on top. The Low Sodium aspect of the Fajita seasoning is fairly import as the undrained beans will have a fair amount of their own and crockpot cooking means less seasoning winds up tasting like more so imagine what more seasoning tastes like.
Rotel comes in varying heat levels so check carefully when taking them off the shelves in your grocery. If you don’t like a lot of heat or have small kinds you might want to substitute 2/3s of a can of petite diced tomatoes for one of the cans of Rotel.
You can easily enough make your own Fajita Seasoning Blend that is no salt too:
Finally serve Mexajita Chicken with Yellow or Spanish Rice.
Molly loves the Parmesan Garlic wings from Papa John’s Pizza as I’ll admit do I. We could both happily eat an entire order and skip the pizza altogether but that’s an expensive proposition. I’ve been able in the past to recreate Papa John’s wings using their seasoning packets, garlic sauce and parmesan packets but that limits me to when I have extra of those things on hand and it never seems to make enough sauce for the wings. Now I can make as many as we want as often as we want with this recipe.
Servings: Serves 4
1 teaspoon dried oregano
1 teaspoon dried rosemary
1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
1 teaspoon kosher or sea salt (1/2 tsp table salt)
2 1/2 pounds chicken wings
2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil (or melted butter)
2 tablespoons minced fresh basil
2 garlic cloves, finely minced
1/4 cup grated parmesan cheese
1/2 teaspoon seasoning salt (like Lawry’s)
1 cup blue cheese dressing
1-2 teaspoons Dijon mustard (or to taste)
1. Preheat oven to 425F. In a small bowl, mix together the oregano, rosemary, cumin and salt. Lay the chicken wings on a baking sheet and season the chicken wings with this mixture.
2. Bake the chicken wings for 20-25 minutes. While the chicken is baking, mix together the oil, fresh basil, garlic, parmesan cheese and seasoning salt.
3. In a separate bowl, mix together the blue cheese dressing with the mustard (this is your dipping sauce)
4. When the chicken is cooked through, toss the wings with the garlic/cheese/olive oil (or butter) sauce.
1 cup packed dark-brown sugar
1 cup light corn syrup
2 cups mini marshmallows
¾ cup creamy natural unsweetened peanut butter, well stirred
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
½ teaspoon kosher salt
4 cups thin pretzel sticks, roughly chopped
4 cups unsweetened puffed-wheat cereal
2 ounces bittersweet chocolate, melted
½ teaspoon smoked salt (or additional kosher salt)
1. Lightly grease a 9-inch-by-13-inch baking dish and set aside.
2. In a large saucepan set over medium-high heat, combine the sugar with the corn syrup, then bring the mixture to a boil. Turn off the heat, stir in the marshmallows until about half of them are melted, then stir in the peanut butter until well combined. Add the vanilla and salt. Mix in the pretzels and puffed wheat until well combined.
3. Transfer the mixture to the prepared baking dish and, using lightly greased hands, pat it firmly into the dish. Drizzle with melted chocolate and sprinkle with smoked salt. Refrigerate for 1 hour or until firm. Once firm, slice into small bars with a hot, wet knife, then serve.
I’m happy to announce that the extension of our emergency escape plan the flume & grotto ride is finished and undergoing final inspection and testing. If you chose the navigate the flume and grotto in one of our traditional logs you can hit the selector in the log at the appropriate time and be transferred directly on to this new section. Those choosing the tubing option will have to climb aboard a log to take the ride.
As you can see the Patron Members Guest accommodations are also largely complete at this time. All the rooms are unique and this one features an in suite soaking tub in front of fireplace. Perfect for winding down or up your night!
Here is a view of one of the Powder Rooms in the Patrons Only Area.
One of the outdoor common party areas. You can see one of the water fall features out the right window and out the left in the distance some of the cabanas.
Another of the underground public party areas.
As you can see the wine cellar for the facility has been amply stocked.
As has the hard liquor bottle room
One of the 24/7 hot snack areas. This one’s a make your own Nachos bar at the moment.
One of the many media rooms, this one used for you sports fanatics.
A wee something from a favorite group of mine
Even as a wee one I had muh life goals!
Just discovered it’s Cthulhumas again. How the %!@*% did that happen? What do you suppose my chances are of finding a dragonslayer between now and having to go to family dinner?
Being a 40 ton flying dragon means your relatives simply won’t believe you’re snowed in and can’t make Cthulhumas. Sigh.
Maybe we could spend Cthulhumas with Cat’s family. Eating a few dead mice seems a small price to pay to avoid Uncle Fafnir’s pull my wing gag.
Cthulhumas; the perfect day for dragon slayers, but on the only day of the year I wouldn’t put up a fight I can’t find one. Lazy buggers. Guess it’s family dinner…And the damned cat is hiding. Fuzzy little coward.
Survived Cthulhumas dinner with family. Not nearly as bad as expected. Even got a little misty at Kayeth reading Rudolph the red-tentacled shuggoth.
Getting ready for new year’s eve. Raided the vineyard in town and carried off four big vats of red. A little raw, but otherwise not bad.
Holy Cthulhu, but that wine had a kick! Don’t remember anything after midnight, and my head feels like it’s full of angry eels.
Head still full of eels. Worse yet I seem to have acquired a tattoo of a strange girl on my foreleg. Wish I knew who and how. Must have been some party.
Now cat is mocking me, calling me “the dragon with the girl tattoo.” Stupid cat.
Cat got sick of the snow and made me fly us to the tropics. Ated my first bird of paradise today. Sparkly! Sparkly! Sparkly!
Went to sleep on beach, woke up afloat. Not sure I like this whole tides thing.
Whazza? Napping, why do you ask, cat? Thursday? Late January? Oh hell. Actually, screw it. Wake me in February.
Survived the head cold. Less sure about the baby unicorns. Turns out that glittering makes a very faint high pitched whine…
Good Morning Campers,
Okay, so last week was rough. How many of you caught the fact that in last week’s issue, the word “Header” was at the top (my place holder) without an actual header being there? Well, as you can probably figure out, I was one of those who didn’t catch it.
Yes, it was a rough week…but on a positive note, I didn’t need any bail money, which I’m sure Lethal is thankful for and I didn’t have to hide any bodies. Although that last point came really close to not being true.
I’d like to point out that Lethal, my friend and buddy, the one who has my back when all others have run, has contributed and helped out quite a bit with this issue while I’ve been working my butt of for uncle Sam. I have about 2 more bad weeks at work and then I’ll have a little more time.
There’s a new section today, splitting out our little stories from the rest of the issue. Tell me what you think.
Today is Mother’s Day. And I’m starting this week’s issue a bit early so that I don’t run out of time. Normally, Sunday is my day off from all things Dragon Laffs. But, right now my lovely wife and Izzy dragon’s mom, is sound asleep, being allowed to sleep in.
Breakfast is waiting to be cooked and all things are ready to go, so here I am starting Dragon Laffs while I wait.
I just wanted to mention, before we get too deeply engrossed in today’s issue, that back on Tuesday, I posted a bunch of stuff telepathically, so if you thought of something funny on Tuesday, that was me!
Parenting Hack #25:
When your children have been bad, don’t take their electronic devices away from them, take their chargers instead. Then sit back and watch the fun as they slowly drive themselves crazy trying to conserve the last of their battery power in their phones, tablets, laptops and other devices. It not only teaches them not to misbehave, but it is also very entertaining.
Not sure which of our female readers and/or employees (Cast Members?) sent this to me and I will be dammed if I would reveal the name even if I knew it, I value my life way too much for that.
Okay, for this one you have to study the picture really well and then read the true (?) story afterward.
Having driven a left hand drive car on and off for several years, I can tell you how confusing it is. For one particular trip, I drove my left hand drive car on the left hand side of the road, to get to work, (which was on an Air Force Base in England), then I got in a right hand drive truck, but drove it on the left side of the road at work. And we would take our left hand drive car, drive to the port on the left side of the road, take the ferry to the mainland, and then drive our left hand drive car on the right side of the road. It’s a wonder any of the military guys survive without crashing on a daily basis.
This is one of the portraits that’s hanging in my front hall. This is my great-great-great-(not really sure how many)-great grand sire dragon. He is one of the supposed original dragons to enter this realm back when it was nothing but a ball of dust. Back when the five original dragons created what the gods then used to mold. My sire brought fire to the emptiness; the blues (of whom I am also descended) brought water; the whites (stuck up lizards!) brought air; the very solid browns brought the earth and the solidness that all the others were built on. Ah, but that’s only 4, I can hear you saying now. And yes, it has been only four I’ve told you about. Let’s just say that the fifth dragon brought magic to the dust mote and we’ve been blessed ever since.
Here’s a brand new app! You’ve got to check this out! I want one.
show-fid=1034-4fb153c58d835edacee289ebcecd1230&type=mp4&from=timeline&isappinstalled=0
When last you left me, I was turning and burning, or as Lethal insists, flapping and flopping about the skies following a little blinking strobe light attached to a drone much to the dismay of several Ninja cats whom had decided to board Dragon Airlines at the last possible moment. We seemed to be headed to the far side of the property and taking as many precautions as possible: terrain following, low level flying, sudden sharp course changes and direction reversals, when suddenly the drone dipped into a small valley which I was pretty sure was just a box canyon. I followed anyway figuring it might be our destination as we never made use of the area because of the valley walls propensity for avalanches in winter and serious rock slides in summer.
Suddenly the rock walls on both side of the valley started exploding like giant popcorn kernels from hell! I was under fire! SC popped her head out of her pouch between my wing roots long enough to whack me on the back of the head causing me to glance over my shoulder and spot her looking backwards concernedly. Seems I had acquired some unfriendlies that wanted to play! A-10s firing 30 mm cannon shells at a rate of up to 4200 round a minute with an effective (pronounce that dead dragon) range of over a mile. Since the rounds were moving at over 3500 feet per second I’d have maybe about a second and a quarter to avoid any burst I saw. Problem was I couldn’t keep flying with my head over my shoulder in such tight terrain and by the time I heard the round that got me it would likely be the last thing I heard, having already been hit by the burst.
They were trying to drive me deeper into the box canyon which was a large keyhole shaped one. I surmised their intent was to involve me in a game of dragon in the middle once we got there and with serious malice aforethought on their part. In other words, I was in the deep end of that creek sans paddle and rapidly approaching the rapids.
I was confused by this tactic however, in such a tight area, while they were practically assured hits on me, those A-10s would surely wind up either hitting each other as collateral damage or wind up flying into each other or me. Those sort of things are usually high on a pilots list of things to avoid at all costs and I’m sure they must realize if they ejected they’d hit the ground flame broiled- either by me or by the wreckage of their own aircraft.
With my time running out I snout shoveled SC, who had been my foreword looking eyes the last 10 seconds, back into her pouch and slid my jaw across the Velcro. Last thing I needed was to face Lethal or the rest of the Ninja Cat Clan and tell them I had lost their beloved Clan Matriarch. Not that losing Chai or Bruce would be much better, though the way my newly Bruce the Brutal pierced ear throbbed; I was seriously considering dropping Bruce into the cockpit of one of those Warthogs as a distraction.
No I liked my chances with these A-10s way better. See I had realized, driving me into the canyon and coming into it with me was tantamount to a death wish. That meant only one possibility. Those weren’t live pilots, they were likely drone aircraft or flown by robots or remotely controlled. This would give me the edge I needed to get out of this with (most of anyway) my skin intact as well as the extremely fluffy fur of my 3 passengers.
I momentarily caught a break in having to dodge their constant bursts at me by speeding up and pulling ahead of them beyond their cannons effective range. I entered the keyhole of the canyon banked left and flew as fast and close to the canyon walls as I could, buffeting them with my wings as much as I safely could, stirring up a giant dust cloud of rock particles and tree parts. As I completed the 360 grand tour of the canyon, I reversed my bank and headed back down the narrow portion flying right over the A-10s now burning flat out to catch me. As they soon found out I had a sizable wake of rocks and stones literally right on my tail which they flew into. Jet engines plus rocks generally tend to equal somebody pulling the ejection curtain over their face. Speaking of my tail, I used it to swat the canopy of one of the middle 2 A-10s in the formation while ripping the other middle aircraft’s canopy off with my feet and shoving it down an engine for him so he’d know where to find it.
There seems to be a lot of loud noises and commotion going on behind me but I really couldn’t spare a look because I was worried my playmates might have had friends in the event I got away. That was, I couldn’t spare a look until I felt about 20 searing points of pain on my chest and heard Bruce literally caterwaul ‘NOOO! REH! MENOW! Sparing a fast glace over my shoulder I saw a burning A-10 with cannon blazing and canopy missing rapidly gaining on us. If I didn’t figure out something fast and by fast I meant RIGHT NOW, I was going to get a flying firing flaming A-10 enema in about 2 seconds. I didn’t think it was an experience I should be having or would be surviving.
So I did what I always do in these situations, review all the really cool moves I’ve seen in flying movies in my head. Then it hit me! Time to pull a Maverick! I called under me “Hang on tight Bruce; I’m going to let him get closer, then hit the brakes and he’ll fly right by us!” Bruce’s eyes looked like they encompassed his entre face (ok so that might have been the vintage leather flying cap and goggles he’d apparently found in his pocket and donned). If at all possible in the brief second I saw him after saying that I think he got even fluffier before responding “Reh??? MEH?? NOOOO!!!’ and disappearing into his pocket and very deftly pulling the Velcro flap closed over his head with his paw.
I glided a couple heart beat (ok, so like about 3 dozen because my pulse was really ripping away like a chain saw), then I pulled up sharply and unfurled my wings to act as speed breaks. This caused me to stop on a dime with a nickel’s change, the A-10 to shoot by under me and my tail (as planned) to swing down rapidly to counterbalance my nose high position meaning it caught the A-10 right under the tail section causing him to cartwheel ass over nose right into his remain 2 pals, who were coming down the canyon side by side and had opened fire on me just as I pulled up, hitting the chase A-10 full in the cockpit as it emerged from under me. I got a quick look at the cockpit and I had been right, they appeared to be remotely piloted drones with the pilots having only enough humanoid form to fly the aircraft.
I looked around a moment wondering what became of the Quad rotor I had been following before finding it sitting on a small ledge at the mouth of the canyon. When it saw me it immediately took to the air flew once around me and under me narrowly avoiding an angry and large paw swipe from a reappearing Bruce before rocking in front of my face a second in a follow me gesture. As we once again started out I called out to my passengers-
“Ninja Kitties! Sing out like its Karaoke night in the alley so I know you’re all ok”
I felt stirrings in 3 pouches, received 3 slaps..sans claws which I was going to mark down on my calendar to remember and three distinct “Maows” though none of the three were what I would call overly enthusiastic.
“Ok guys I’m going the need some help here I have to keep my attention focused on that damned quad rotor drone. It’s hard to see and moves like a flying cat. That means you guys have to be my radar. SC you got forward, that’s 180 from wing root to wing root, Chai- same deal but tail watch. Bruce- I wouldn’t put it past our friends down there having something nasty on the ground, so keep watch in all directions as best you can. If you see something I need to know from what side the threat is coming so in addition to caterwauling (I can’t believe I’m going to say this) a sharp swat on the threat side would be appreciated and one swat for every threat if there are more than one. I doubt that quad rotor has a lot of battery left so we shouldn’t be aloft much longer. I’d really like to land without any further damage or excitement how about you guys?”
This time I receive 3 decidedly more enthusiastic ‘MEOWs!’ in response.
I was right; our little game of follow the drone didn’t last much longer. It was a good thing too because I got whacked for false alarms from my feline spotter about 8 times in the 5 minutes our post excitement flight lasted. Following nap of the earth for a short distance, we came up on another small canyon cut into the ground. The drone came to a stop, with me and three Ninja Kitties hovering beside it. The little copter gave me a wiggle waggle telling me to stay put and did a fast shoot straight up. I could barely make out the fact that it was doing a fast 360 degree check in all directions before it came rocketing back down beside me and disappeared into a cliff face crevasse and I set down on the ledge just below it I understood what all the frantic whacking was about. Dragon-Vest-Pocket-Airlines apparently doesn’t have any cat suitable facilities. My 3 passengers didn’t even wait for their plane to come to a complete stop or for the pilot’s final thank you for flying Dragon Airlines message before disembarking at high speed looking for the nearest bit of privacy.
Judging from the onslaught of eye watering ‘fragrances of nature’ my olfactory nerves were forced to endure until the breeze picked up, my passengers had been well and truly scared for their (9?) lives. Moments after giving thought to this I found a suitable boulder and joined them in a little bladder relief. The severity of the ‘pucker factor’ of the situation, combined with the additional pucker factor of the near miss with the flaming A-10 suppository, meant it was going to be a good while before I unclenched enough to water anyone’s eyes myself.
When I returned to the landing area, I was assaulted by several apparently approving and grateful Ninja cats who purred and rubbed their approval all over me in an epic demonstration of their shedding capability. By the time I got them back aboard and took off to circle back up to the ledge where the drone had gone we left a small ‘fur devil’ in our wake.
I examined the crevice where the drone disappeared, but it appeared to be just a crack in the rock, no way was I going to fit into it. Then I got an inspiration.
“Yo! Short and Surly with the Sharps! Get up here.”
Bruce’s head popped out of his pocket. “Maow?”
“Yeah you. Let’s go you’re up! It’s a short crack and you drew the short straw get it shorty?”
Bruce furled his brow and I saw his claws start to unsheathe. “Merrrrow?!”
“Ok! OK! I’ll rephrase already! Sheeesh! Its tight quarters from all appearances and you’re the smallest so how about having a look around while we look out here, please? Better?”
After a moments glare and a glance to my left shoulder where Chai was now looking down at Bruce whiskers twitching and tail furiously lashing but saying nothing I received what I took to be an affirmative “Meh!”.
Bruce scampered up my vest, up my shoulder and neck, and then made his way cautiously down my nose pausing to stare me in the eyes a moment.
“Don’t worry, it might feel like it’s your neck being put out there but it’s also my nose and I like it where and as it is. Word of advice though, you feel me inhale and then the wind is suddenly in your face, the safest place for you is between my ears. Comprendo mi pequeño amigo? It’s going to get muy caliente!”
“REH! MAOW!” Bruce turns about and inches forward on his belly to the end of my nose, his tail thrashing like a windshield wiper across my vision. He taps my nose and then slides his paw forward several times indicating he wants me to move him closer. I don’t understand why humans insist cats don’t communicate, all you have to do is pay attention to them and they will make themselves (occasionally painfully) clear. I pushed into within about a foot of the crevasse. Just about the time I realized I didn’t smell rock as strongly as I should have, for being that close to it, Bruce bunched himself and leapt from my nose intent on perching on the lip of the crevasse. I say intent on, because what he actually did was pass completely through the rock face and disappear, trailing a loud and long “Nooooooo!! behind him
Before I could even blink or think, I had the weight of the other two ninja cats on my nose, frantically hollering for me to put them up to the crevasse as well.
I took a chance and believed what I saw and what I smelled, or more correctly what I didn’t smell, and with cats perched on my nose took, 2 steps forward right at the rock wall. There was a curious tingling sensation, like a static electricity waterfall and then…LED foot lights?
In one of the foot lights was the tiny form of Bruce, who was currently looking and acting like he might be a few kibbles short of a full bowl. I got slapped in the nose with a pair of insistent tails and immediately lowered my, growing more demanding passengers, to the floor to access their companion. SC immediately took to mothering Bruce sniffing and cleaning him. Chai, meantime, took up a stance over them, gave me a pointed look and indicated ahead of them in the tunnel with a jut of her jaw and a “merrNOW!”.
“NO Chai, I have a better idea and you 3 are tagging along on MY mission so you had better get used to doing things MY way.” I scooted carefully up close to them corralled them with my tail then gently unfurled enough wing to surround them in a dragon teepee of protection. I felt someone climbing my vest and was preparing to have a Dragon to Cat argument as ludicrous as that sounds when I felt slaps on one of the vest pockets.
“What? There something in there you need? Ok! OK! I’m opening it. Hey light sticks! Must have come prepacked with the vest!” I break one shake it and hand it to Chai who grabs it and lets herself back down my vest placing it near where they work on Bruce who is at least now sitting more or less upright and apparently happily enduring cleaning and massaging from both female cats.
Both SC & Chai’s heads suddenly shoot up, facing front and peering over my tail, their ears act as mini radar dishes scanning for something, sensitive whiskers twitching. Chai looks at me and points down the tunnel before leaping over my tail and disappearing into the shadows. I use my dragon infravision to track her progress as she expertly, swiftly and silently evades all the pools of light from the footlights, only to stop about a hundred feet down the tunnel . She suddenly sit up very straight, her ears again working furiously.
Do cats have ball bearings installed or something, to get their ears to rotate like that? My pondering this is suddenly interrupted by the sight of a light, moving speedily at the far end of the tunnel in our direction, and Chai’s abrupt 180 and stealthily high speed retreat, back to behind my tail.
I again, wing encircle the cats and I caution them “Noses inside until I open my Wings unless you want the Dragon equivalent of a Brazilian Wax for your noses and whiskers.” Six slightly (in my vision) glowing eyes blink their apparent understanding. I begin a slow measure inhale; I don’t want a flash back just a nice 50 foot narrow lance of metal burning fire, probably with a nostril’s worth of snot-napalm afterwards, just for good measure.
Just as I’m about to let fly, several overhead lights blink on right about where Chai had stopped. My target passes into the light beams and I see…a Radio Flyer Little Red Wagon, with Wooden Stake sides, sporting a head lamp? Chai shakes me out of my shock by asking “Merrrffff menow?”
“I don’t think I need to Chai, get a load of this.”
As it approaches, it always remains lit by 3 lights: one where it was, one where it is, and one where it will be. The moving lights along with the lack of anyone pulling it, is, admittedly, a little eerie and I guess more than enough provocation for the return of the uber fluff to my 3 companions which I notice when I look back down. The wagon executes a neat little 3-point turn and backs up to within a foot or two of my tail and stops. The rear wooden stake section tilts out and drops down silently, like a lift gate on a truck, and I see a tablet attached to the wagons handle suddenly flare to life. Apparently this is some evolution of the iLethals which are running all over DL/LL HQ. The same face and the same voice says “Assist the injured cat onto the lift and into the wagon then follow me please.”
With a little help from SC & Chai, Bruce makes it onto the lift gate and expresses his dismay at leaving the group in a surprisingly strong and loud voice. SC leaps over Bruce on his travel up to the wagon in the lift gate to check out the inside. Chai chooses to demonstrate she’s a threat to the wagon by using her claws to climb the wooden stake side and pull herself in. When I lean over I see the inside has been prepared with a very large kitty bed and some (sniffing) salmon jerky. Bruce walks/limps/slides down the now nearly erect lift gate and immediately plunks himself down between the girls to investigate a salmon jerky tidbit, before glancing at me with some apparently worry.
“It’s ok Bruce. I’m pretty sure I know who the man behind the curtain is. We’re not off to see the Wizard, but rather the Leprechaun … er, Mr. Green, I mean, and when we get there, he’s got some ‘splainin’ to do!”
None of his classmates liked him because of his stupidity and clumsiness, especially his teacher, who was always yelling at him, “You’re driving me mad, Billy Bob”
One day Billy Bob’s mom came to school to check on how he was doing.
The teacher told his mom honestly, that her son was simply a disaster, getting very low marks, and that she had never had she seen such a stupid boy in her entire teaching career.
The mom was shocked at the feedback and withdrew her son from school and moved out of Detroit, relocating to Cleveland.
25 years later, the teacher was diagnosed with an almost incurable cardiac disease. All the doctors strongly advised her to have heart surgery, which only one surgeon at the Cleveland Clinic could perform. Left with no other options, the teacher decided to have the operation, which was successful.
When she opened her eyes after the surgery she saw a handsome young doctor smiling down at her. She wanted to thank him, but could not talk. Her face started to turn blue, she raised her hand, trying to tell him something but quickly died .
The doctor was shocked, wondering what went wrong so suddenly. Then he turned around and saw our friend Billy Bob , a janitor in the Clinic, who had unplugged the life-support equipment in order to connect his vacuum cleaner.
Don’t tell me you didn’t think that Billy Bob was the heart-surgeon.
This is our private golf club’s golf pro. It’s really not as bad as it looks. The person she is in the middle of instructing just refuses to keep his head down.
It’s not my fault! Blame Lethal!!
Wow! He looks like I feel most mornings! Actually, he looks better than I feel on Mondays!
This would be exactly how my day would begin.
Lethal!!!! The kitties are driving the car again!!!
Oh?
Well, yeah, they can bring home donuts.
Yup! Been there.
I don’t think this one is Lethal’s. I haven’t known any of them to get caught.
And the really bad part is that there isn’t a one of you, out there, reading this who are surprised…
Lethal’s idea of trying to teach me self control
The great and powerful Harry Dresden. If you don’t know who Harry is…well, two things actually,
#1 – You’ve led a very sheltered life
#2 – I envy the hell out of you because you get to read all those books from scratch with them being brand new to you!!
and yes…that’s all the hints I’m giving you!
Aahhh! Time for one of my favorite parts of the ezine…
Amen!
Wave to me Easter Bunny! And use both hands!
There is someone for everyone…even nerds.
Why don’t debutantes go to orgies?
There’d be too many thank you notes to write.
How is a woman like a condom?
Both spend more time in your wallet than on your pecker.
What should you do if you girlfriend starts smoking?
Slow down and use a lubricant.
Define “Egghead ”
What Mrs. Dumpty gives to Humpty.
The older you get, the more friends, loved ones and others whom you consider friends because of the impression they’ve made on your life, pass on. Thanks very much to Lethal who put this together for me at the last minute. Mr. King, you will be missed.
B.B. King, whose scorching guitar licks and heartfelt vocals made him the idol of generations of musicians and fans while earning him the nickname King of the Blues, died late Thursday at home in Las Vegas. He was 89.
His attorney, Brent Bryson, told The Associated Press that King died peacefully in his sleep at 9:40 p.m. PDT. He said funeral arrangements were underway.
Clark County Coroner John Fudenberg confirmed the death
King’s eldest surviving daughter Shirley King of the Chicago area said she was upset that she didn’t have a chance to see her father before he died.
Although he had continued to perform well into his 80s, the 15-time Grammy winner suffered from diabetes and had been in declining health during the past year. He collapsed during a concert in Chicago last October, later blaming dehydration and exhaustion. He had been in hospice care at his Las Vegas home.
For most of a career spanning nearly 70 years, Riley B. King was not only the undisputed king of the blues but a mentor to scores of guitarists, who included Eric Clapton, Otis Rush, Buddy Guy, Jimi Hendrix, John Mayall and Keith Richards. He recorded more than 50 albums and toured the world well into his 80s, often performing 250 or more concerts a year.
King played a Gibson guitar he affectionately called Lucille with a style that included beautifully crafted single-string runs punctuated by loud chords, subtle vibratos and bent notes.
The result could bring chills to an audience, no more so than when King used it to full effect on his signature song, “The Thrill is Gone.” He would make his guitar shout and cry in anguish as he told the tale of forsaken love, then end with a guttural shouting of the final lines: “Now that it’s all over, all I can do is wish you well.”
His style was unusual. King didn’t like to sing and play at the same time, so he developed a call-and-response between him and Lucille.
“Sometimes I just think that there are more things to be said, to make the audience understand what I’m trying to do more,” King told The Associated Press in 2006. “When I’m singing, I don’t want you to just hear the melody. I want you to relive the story, because most of the songs have pretty good storytelling.”
A preacher uncle taught him to play, and he honed his technique in abject poverty in the Mississippi Delta, the birthplace of the blues.
“I’ve always tried to defend the idea that the blues doesn’t have to be sung by a person who comes from Mississippi, as I did,” he said in the 1988 book “Off the Record: An Oral History of Popular Music.”
“People all over the world have problems,” he said. “And as long as people have problems, the blues can never die.”
Fellow travelers who took King up on that theory included Clapton, the British-born blues-rocker who collaborated with him on “Riding With the King,” a best-seller that won a Grammy in 2000 for best traditional blues album.
Still, the Delta’s influence was undeniable. King began picking cotton on tenant farms around Indianola, Mississippi, before he was a teenager, being paid as little as 35 cents for every 100 pounds, and was still working off sharecropping debts after he got out of the Army during World War Two.
“He goes back far enough to remember the sound of field hollers and the cornerstone blues figures, like Charley Patton and Robert Johnson,” ZZ Top guitarist Billy Gibbons once told Rolling Stone magazine.
King got his start in radio with a gospel quartet in Mississippi, but soon moved to Memphis, Tennessee, where a job as a disc jockey at WDIA gave him access to a wide range of recordings. He studied the great blues and jazz guitarists, including Django Reinhardt and T-Bone Walker, and played live music a few minutes each day as the “Beale Street Blues Boy,” later shortened to B.B.
Through his broadcasts and live performances, he quickly built up a following in the black community, and recorded his first R&B hit, “Three O’Clock Blues,” in 1951.
He began to break through to white audiences, particularly young rock fans, in the 1960s with albums like “Live at the Regal,” which would later be declared a historic sound recording worthy of preservation by the Library of Congress’ National Recording Registry.
He further expanded his audience with a 1968 appearance at the Newport Folk Festival and when he opened shows for the Rolling Stones in 1969.
King was inducted into the Blues Foundation Hall of Fame in 1984, the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 1987 and received the Songwriters Hall of Fame Lifetime Achievement Award in 1990. He received the Presidential Medal of Freedom from President George W. Bush, gave a guitar to Pope John Paul II and had President Barack Obama sing along to his “Sweet Home Chicago.”
Other Grammys included best male rhythm `n’ blues performance in 1971 for “The Thrill Is Gone,” best ethnic or traditional recording in 1982 for “There Must Be a Better World Somewhere” and best traditional blues recording or album several times. His final Grammy came in 2009 for best blues album for “One Kind Favor.”
Through it all, King modestly insisted he was simply maintaining a tradition.
“I’m just one who carried the baton because it was started long before me,” he told the AP in 2008.
Born Riley B. King on Sept. 16, 1925, on a tenant farm near Itta Bena, Mississippi, King was raised by his grandmother after his parents separated and his mother died. He worked as a sharecropper for five years in Kilmichael, an even smaller town, until his father found him and took him back to Indianola.
“I was a regular hand when I was 7. I picked cotton. I drove tractors. Children grew up not thinking that this is what they must do. We thought this was the thing to do to help your family,” he said.
When the weather was bad and he couldn’t work in the cotton fields, he walked 10 miles to a one-room school before dropping out in the 10th grade.
After he broke through as a musician, it appeared King might never stop performing. When he wasn’t recording, he toured the world relentlessly, playing 342 one-nighters in 1956. In 1989, he spent 300 days on the road. After he turned 80, he vowed he would cut back, and he did, somewhat, to about 100 shows a year.
He had 15 biological and adopted children. Family members say 11 survive.
Here are some comments from people who knew and admired him:
“The world has physically lost not only one of the greatest musical people ever but one of the greatest people ever. Enjoy your eternity,” Smokey Robinson.
“I just wanted to express my sadness and to say thank you to my dear friend BB King. I wanted to thank him for all the inspiration and encouragement he gave me as a player over the years and for the friendship that we enjoyed. There’s not a lot left to say because this music is almost a thing of the past now, and there are not many left to play it in the pure way that BB did. He was a beacon for all of us who love this kind of music, and I thank him from the bottom of my heart,” Eric Clapton, in a video posted on Facebook.
“His fusion of jump, jazz and blues styles became the template for blues and rock guitarists the world over. Without BB, there would be no Jimi Hendrix and Eric Clapton, and without Jimi and Eric, no heavy rock — but we shouldn’t hold that against him! A true great,” Producer Joe Boyd, who worked with Pink Floyd, Fairport Convention and many others.
“Mississippi is known the world over as the birthplace of America’s music, and BB King is one of its founding legends and one of our state’s most treasured gifts to the music world. For decades, our souls have been stirred by his talents. From juke joints to concert halls, there is no place his influence hasn’t reached. Mississippi has lost a legend. He is the king. The thrill is gone,” Mississippi Gov. Phil Bryant.
“The Blues lost its best friend with the loss of BB King, and the music world lost a giant. I was privileged to have worked with BB many times over the years, and he was not just a remarkable artist, he was one of the sweetest men I’ve ever met. He united multiple generations with a love for the blues, and I will always recall the joy he would bring to audiences and fellow musicians alike when they were lucky enough to be in his presence. When he said, `I’ll play the Blues for You,’ he meant it. He enriched the lives and the music of every artist he came into contact with, and it’s through his influence and his inspiration that his music will continue to be heard,” Longtime Grammys Executive Producer Ken Ehrlich.
What can I say? Another week, another new safe house fit for a leprechaun. Here’s a view of the side you can’t see:
As you can see, I’m roughing it to achieve my safety. No coffee maker, Guinness tap or whiskey cellar anywhere in that photo!
Oh all you Dragon Fangirls quit yer whining already! Impish got another one of my cast offs. In fact its actually one I didn’t want to let go but he’s been a pain in me arse about begging for it. Since he went triple market value and he’s used it 4 times bringing no small amount of attention to himself while doing so I finally gave in if for nothing more than my peace.
Top left of the beach area you can just make out the hidden entrance to the cave complex under those cliffs. I see he’s wasted no time in installing a support staff. Personally I expect to see 007 pulling up to the beach in a sea plane any moment. Since Herve Villechaize has already kicked it, I wonder if I could get Verne Troyer to stand in as Nick Nack and show up with the silver tray and Champagne service for one?
Well I have a big video conference this morning so I’d best be off to dress properly for it, shaved fresh polo shirt w/ Company logo, my Notre Dame lounge pants and river sandals. What not like they are going to see more of me than from the shoulders up any way!
It’s been my experience most but not all of those days tend to start with an ‘M’.
Thought I’d show you all the card I sent my Mother for Mother’s Day:
A Muslim dies and finds himself before the pearly Gates. He is very excited, as all his life he has longed to meet the Prophet Mohammed. Having arrived at the Gates of Heaven, he meets a man with a beard.
‘Are you Mohammed?’, he asks. ‘No, my son. I am Peter. Mohammed is higher up.’ And he points to a ladder that rises into the clouds.
Delighted that Mohammed should be higher than Peter, he climbs the ladder in great strides, climbs through the clouds coming to a room where he meets another bearded man.
He asks again, ‘Are you Mohammed? ‘No, I am Moses. Mohammed is higher still.
Exhausted, but with a heart full of joy, he continues to climb the ladder and, yet again, he discovers an even larger room where he meets another man with a beard.
Full of hope, he asks again, ‘Are you Mohammed?’ ‘No, I am Jesus…You will find Mohammed higher up.’
Mohammed higher than Jesus! The poor man can hardly contain his delight and climbs and climbs, ever higher once again, he reaches a larger room where he meets a man with a beard and repeats his question:
‘Are you Mohammed?’ he gasps, as he is by now, totally out of breath from all his climbing. ‘No, my son. I am God. But you look exhausted. Would you like a coffee?’
‘Yes, please, my Lord’
God looks behind him, claps his hands and calls out: ‘ Hey, Mohammed, two coffees!’
There’s dangerous new malware out there called Rombertik that could steal your personal information and destroy your PC. If you try to get rid of it, the malware could trap your computer in an endless reboot cycle.
Rombertik usually infects computers using a malicious file attached to a phishing email. In some cases, this email is designed to look like a message from Microsoft. The malware can steal login credentials and other information you enter into websites.
Rombertik also checks to see if it’s being analyzed or if other programs are trying to delete it. If it detects this kind of activity, it will try to delete a file called the Master Boot Record (MBR). This can cause your computer to go into an endless restart cycle when it is turned off and turned back on. The malware also has some other tricks up its sleeve.
One involves writing a byte of data to memory 960 million times to overwhelm analysis tools that try to spot malware by logging system activity.
Since it’s extremely difficult to get rid of, the best way to protect yourself from Rombertik is to avoid it altogether.
And, remember, never open an email attachment from a sender you don’t know. It’s most likely filled with malicious software that can harm your computer.
If you’re computer is infected by Rombertik, you’ll likely lose valuable data. If the malware successfully deletes the MBR file on your computer, you will have to reinstall the Windows operating system.
A 53-year-old UFO mystery, sometimes called “Britain’s Roswell,” has been solved — maybe. But if so, the explanation is in some ways as strange as the original story of a crashed alien spacecraft, reaching back into the deepest secrets of the Cold War.
The mystery began in 1962 when a Scottish shepherd named Donald McKenzie was tending to his flock on a rural hillside. He came across a strange, box-like object just lying on the ground — an object that clearly came from somewhere very far away.
McKenzie reported his finding to the authorities, but the Royal Air Force was in no hurry to check it out. But check it out they did, about three months later.
The RAF investigators were stunned and baffled by the finding — a vessel that appeared large enough to hold a grown man. Strange containers of a clear liquid littered the ground around the object, which had an opening that seemed to be just big enough for a camera.
But there was no camera inside. In fact, the investigators had the strong impression that someone had beaten them to the discovery and tampered with it. But who?
For more than a half a century, the questions surrounding the mysterious discovery had no apparent answer. A legend grew around the find — the object, perhaps, was the remnant of crashed UFO, much like whatever had crashed in Roswell, New Mexico, 15 years earlier.
Even weirder, when the RAF squadron leader in charge of the investigation, James Sims, called the British Air Ministry to report his findings, he got back the message that the whole thing was none of his business.
Whatever the object was, it was on a need-to-know basis — and Sims had no need to know. Then the Ministry went a step further. The officials in London told him to leave out all mention of the weird finding in his report.
What in the world — or any world — was going on?
Now, a researcher and author of a new book, How UFOs Conquered the World: The History of a Modern Myth, believes he’s solved the puzzle.
David Clarke says that he combed through previously secret British government documents and found out exactly what crashed in the Scottish hills. The object, he says, was created by the United States Central Intelligence Agency.
The CIA, in the midst of the Cold War, came up with a program code-named Moby Dick. The idea was to send high-flying balloons, floating at about 60,000 feet, to spy on the Soviet Union, taking pictures of military and nuclear facilities.
The program was ended in the mid-1950s, but the strange UFO found in Scotland had been lying there for at least six years after it broke from its balloon, which had floated thousands of miles off course
StopWatching.us is a coalition of more than 100 public advocacy organizations and companies from across the political spectrum. Join the movement at https://rally.stopwatching.us. This video harnesses the voices of celebrities, activists, legal experts, and other prominent figures in speaking out against mass surveillance by the NSA. Please share widely to help us spread the message that we will not stand for the dragnet surveillance of our communications.
The Electronic Frontier Foundation (EFF) is a nonprofit civil liberties law and advocacy center that has been fighting the NSA’s unconstitutional spying for years. Learn more at https://eff.org.
When documents leaked by Edward Snowden revealed details about the NSA’s bulk collection of phone records, many people were understandably outraged. But, the federal government has argued that the program is legal under the Patriot Act. Now, a federal appeals court has shot down that argument and ruled in favor of privacy.
[Judge Gerard E.] Lynch wrote that the text of the Patriot Act “cannot bear the weight the government asks us to assign to it, and that it does not authorize the telephone metadata program.”
Under the program, the NSA collected metadata like the length of the call and the telephone numbers on either end. It then analyzed the data based on phone numbers associated with terrorist organizations. The court ruled that the program was not legal under the Patriot Act, but did not rule on the constitutionality of the bulk collection of metadata.
The NSA and government officials have used Section 215 of the Patriot Act to justify the bulk collection of metadata. That section is set to expire in June. Congress is currently debating whether or not to renew it.
“This is a landmark ruling and a critically important decision, ” said Stephen I. Vladeck, Professor of Law American University, Washington College of Law and an analyst for CNN. “What it means going forward depends entirely on Congress, because this provision was set to expire June 1st anyway, ” he said.
This case a huge victory for privacy advocates, but not everyone is happy about it. Senator Marco Rubio defended the NSA program, stating that many people misunderstand it.
“A perception has been created, including by political figures who serve in this chamber, that the United States government is listening to your phone calls or going through your bills as a matter of course,” said Rubio. “That is absolutely and categorically false.”
See the yellow highlighted section above? If/when Rubio throws his hat in the Republican Presidential Candidate Ring remember this!
IT’S WE THE PEOPLE not We the Spied Upon and Monitored Sheeple!
May is National Hamburger Month and celebrated each and every year by a huge amount of people! National BBQ Month is also celebrated this month of May so extremely large amounts of hamburger is cooked on grills in honor of this holiday [as well as for Memorial Day which is seen as the beginning of the summer picnic season- L.L.]
“A hamburger (or simply burger) is a sandwich (National Sandwich Month is August) that consists of a cooked patty of ground meat and is generally served with various garnish or condiments like ketchup, mustard, mayonnaise, lettuce, tomato, onion, relish, pickles and cheese toppings, placed inside a sliced bun, often baked specially for this purpose, or pieces of bread or toast. The meat patty is beef, unless otherwise noted.”
“Hamburger also refers to the cooked patty of ground meat by itself. The patty alone is also known as a beefburger, or burger. Adding cheese makes it a cheeseburger. Hamburger is actually a distinct product from ground round and other types of ground meat. However, ground beef of any form is often commonly referred to as “hamburger.” A recipe calling for ‘hamburger’ (the non-countable noun) would require ground beef or beef substitute- not a whole sandwich. The word hamburger comes from Hamburg steak, which originated in the German city of Hamburg. Contrary to what folk etymology might lead one to believe, there is no actual ‘ham’ in a hamburger.”
The definition of ground beef is chopped fresh and/or frozen beef from primal cuts and trimmings. The maximum fat content in any ground beef is 30 percent (70 percent lean) by law. No water, phosphates, binders, or other meat sources may be added and still be labeled as ground beef. If a ground beef label has an added label identifier such as ground round, sirloin or chuck, the lean and fat used in the product can come from only the primal included in the name.
There are two things to remember when choosing the ground beef at the store. Choose the cut you prefer such as ground round or chuck. If the label does not indicate the cut of beef it might be any portion or a combination of several parts of the animal. The other thing to look at is the percent of lean. It will say 70, 85, or even 93 percent. The higher the percent of lean the less the amount of fat, but you might have to adapt the cooking method to insure a quality product.
“According to the American Heritage Dictionary, the term “hamburger” comes from Hamburg steak, which was first recorded in English in 1884 but was probably used much earlier. A form of pounded beef called “Hamburg Steak” was common in Hamburg in the middle of the 19th century. The recipe was brought to North America by the large numbers of people immigrating from Germany at the time, many of whom passed through the port of Hamburg. There is indirect evidence for its use on an American menu in 1836. The form hamburger steak first appeared in a Washington state newspaper in 1889. The first recipe close to the current idea of a hamburger, using ground beef mixed with onion and pepper dates from 1902. The Oxford English Dictionary of 1802, on the other hand, defines “Hamburg Steak” simply as cured beef. In a time without refrigerators, when it took weeks to travel from Europe to the USA, cured meat was a standard food for poor US immigrants, who often started from Hamburg (which was and is the biggest German seaport and one of the biggest in the world). In a tween deck, where cooking is nearly impossible, cutting tough cured beef into pieces and putting it between slices of bread may suggest itself.”
Some of Molly’s family stopped on their annual pilgrimage North to Indiana (where someone else I know lives though not sure who exactly) so we went out for BBQ to do something different from the norm and since I had several busy day with no chance to cook for them. (Conveniently according to Molly those busy days meant I had a little extra money so I could pay for the BBQ- amazing how that just works out isn’t it?)
Molly’s Grandfather Uncle and I split that tray, 3 sides, a few slices each of a still hot from the oven loaf of Jalapeno Cheddar bread and a 6 pack of Shiner. The 3 ladies ate from a similarly laden tray of pulled pork, smoked chicken & turkey plus 3 other sides and drank wine. Not counting the beer and wine (which we brought with us) Dinner for 6 came to $60 with a $5 tip, which when you consider all the girl did was bring 3 plastic cups and 2 meat trays to the table as you order at isn’t bad at all (You order at the counter and grab your side right there and pay before sitting any waiting for your meat to be sliced to order right off the pit)
<Lethal pauses and stares at several of you for a minute before he presses several things on his tablet and suddenly you can hear a PA Announcement from down the hall> “ Porters report to Main Conference Room for excessive drooling. Mops, buckets, speedi-dry and face towels are required”
ANYWAY- Bet you thought I’d be talking burgers today right? WRONG! Burgers are a very personal thing and one man’s pinnacle of the burger mountain often isn’t fit for another mans dog in the dog owners opinion (the dog don’t care he’ll eat anybody’s burger he can beg or swipe). Politics and Religion are by comparison almost safer topics of discussion.
No today we have 3 rather unique (and one even healthy) recipes I’ll bet have not crossed your path before.
Alright your seeing history in the making boys and girls so pay attention. Avocado is something I can take (in small limited quantities) or leave. If I have my druthers I leave it when and where ever possible. As a result you’ll hardly ever see recipes where Avocados are a main/essential ingredient from me. However in this case it works well and I enjoy the end result, plus its better for me.
This tuna salad replaces most of the mayo with avocado. Is it tuna salad, or guacamole? Out with the bad fats, in with the good!
Theoretically this should work with Egg Salad too, though I am extremely fussy and particular about my egg salad when it comes to sandwiches. Also I’ll probably try a very small scale batch of egg & potato salad with avocado taking the place of the bulk of the mayo at some point before summer as it would seem to keep better when its warm as opposed to the dripping with Mayo stuff not to mention the whole health aspect
Prep Time 15 min – Total Time 15 min – Servings 5
2 (7 ounce) cans Tuna
2 avocados
1 tablespoon mayonnaise
1/2 red onion
2 carrots
2 celery stalks
1 clove garlic
1 lemon
Dice the celery, carrots, and onion. Grate the garlic with a microplane. Strain the tuna. Remove the avocado from the skin and mash. Salt and add lemon juice right away to prevent browning. Add the rest of the ingredients and mix. Serve on a sandwich or in a salad. I like it with balsamic, cucumber, and tomatoes. If saving some, be sure to push plastic wrap directly on the surface of the tuna to prevent browning.
OK that 5 servings thing is for salad plates other wise this makes 4 nice sandwiches or about 6 good wraps/pita pockets with Lettuce, Tomato and Cucumber.
As for storage of left overs I place mine in the center of a piece of plastic wrap and then bring the corners into the center and twist. I do this with serving size portions placing those in Tupperware of a large Ziploc all together. Then come time to use you just slash the plastic wrap and squeeze it all out onto the salad or bread.
Oh… microplane the garlic? Not this Irishman! I like my finger tips right where they are – on the ends of my unbloodied fingers! I use a little of the minced from a jar with a pinch of salt on it pile on my cutting board and the side of my knife to mash it. If I have garlic in the tube I’ll use that or if I’m feeling exceptionally lazy Garlic powder.
Individual Italian-inspired quiche cups are surrounded by a flaky crust made easily with Pillsbury® crescent rounds. Handy for parties, brunches and lunches. A great center piece to a lunch salad.
Prep Time 20 min | Total Time 45 min | Servings 8
Ingredients
1 can (8 oz) Pillsbury™ Place ’N Bake® refrigerated crescent rounds (8 rounds) or 1 can (8 oz) Pillsbury™ refrigerated crescent dinner rolls
3 tablespoons finely diced ham
3 tablespoons finely diced salami
2 tablespoons finely chopped pimiento-stuffed green olives
1/2 teaspoon oregano leaves
2 eggs
2 tablespoons half-and-half
1/8 teaspoon red pepper sauce
1 cup shredded provolone cheese (4 oz)
2 teaspoons chopped fresh Italian (flat-leaf) parsley
Heat oven to 375°F. Spray 8 regular-size muffin cups (2 3/4×1 1/4 inches) with Crisco® Original No-Stick Cooking Spray. If using crescent rounds, remove from package, separate into 8 rounds. If using crescent rolls, remove from package, but do not unroll. Using serrated knife, cut roll into 8 rounds; carefully separate rounds. Press 1 round on bottom and completely up side of each muffin cup. In small bowl, mix ham, salami, olives and oregano. In another small bowl, beat eggs, half-and-half and pepper sauce with fork until well blended. Spoon about 1 tablespoon cheese into each muffin cup. Top each with about 1 rounded tablespoon ham mixture. Divide egg mixture evenly among muffin cups (about 1 tablespoon each). Top with remaining cheese. Bake 12 to 16 minutes or until filling is set and edges of rolls are golden brown. Cool in pan 5 minutes. Run knife around edge of each quiche to loosen; remove to cooling rack. Garnish with parsley. Serve warm.
This Toll House Chocolate Chip Pie is incredible! It has the classic flavors – a sweet, buttery batter with chocolate chips and walnuts – but in pie form!
As this Toll House Chocolate Chip Pie bakes, it forms almost a crackly top – and when you bite into your slice it’s dense and soft and fudgy with crunch from the chopped walnuts.
Serves: 8 servings Prep time: 15 mins
Cook time: 55 mins
Total time: 1 hour 10 mins
Now since we’re obviously going right completely over the top and down the falls sans even a barrel I really see no point in limiting the Ice Cream to mundane old Vanilla here. I’ve seem Molly ply here with both Pecan Praline and Maple Walnut. I’ve gone with Rocky Road and a Coffee Gelato flecked with bits of dark chocolate and espresso beans.
NBC- A Nebraska woman is suing all of the world’s homosexuals for breaking “religious and moral laws,” reports NBC News.
Sylvia Ann Driskell, 66, identified herself as an “ambassador” for plaintiffs “God and His Son, Jesus Christ,” the NBC story said.
The suit doesn’t cite legal precedent or case law, and has already been lampooned by gay writers and activists, including advice columnist Dan Savage, who said “Man, I hope I get deposed!”
(CNN) – A woman being held hostage in Florida ordered a pizza with a special request — to send help — potentially saving her life and the lives of her children.
Cheryl Treadway was held by her boyfriend at knifepoint Monday afternoon, along with her three children, authorities said.
She persuaded him to let her use a cell phone to order a pepperoni pizza online from Pizza Hut, according to authorities.
“Under the comments section, there was a message asking them to send help and call 911 as they were being held hostage,” the Highlands County Sheriff’s Office said in a statement.
‘We’ve never seen that before’
When Treadway’s order came in, Pizza Hut employees knew who she was because she is a frequent customer. And her message raised an alarm.
“We’ve never seen that before,” restaurant manager Candy Hamilton told CNN affiliate WFLA. “I’ve been here 28 years and never, never seen nothing like that come through.”
Read the rest of the article here
Snappy trap, bad. Fire, bad. Vampire paper, not available. Hiring dwarves with wooden stakes. An oldie but a goodie.
Even better idea! Pointy face horse! Comes with own built in stake! Also, owes me a favor.
Pointy face horse says it would be DELIGHTED to help with the vampires. Cat still fluffy. A little worried now.
Now pointy-face horse is cackling. Sounds like a whinny run through a blender. A little creeped out actually. Horses shouldn’t cackle.
OK, this is getting weird. Pointy-face horse is sitting outside the vampire tunnel making “ak-ak-ak” noises and wiggling its butt like cat does going after a bird.
It’s been three hours and no sign of the vampires yet. Pointy face horse is still akakaking and butt wiggling away. Getting tired just watching.
DAMN! First vampire came out, the male, and pointy-face horse jumped eight feet straight up and speared it through the chest.
Still stunned at how the fast pointy face horse moved when that vampire came out. Pointy face is cleaning horn now and waiting for the next one.
The vampire that the pointy-face horse spiked has started to smoke and steam. Pink smoke and green steam… A little worried actually.
…and that’s two vampires down. Now the pointy-face horse is doing a little dance. Didn’t know you could moonwalk with hooves.
Both spiked vampires leaking multicolored smoke and steam now. Stupid pointy-face horse still moonwalking. Cat still fluffy. Starting to regret whole thing.
The vampires are melting now…into little rainbow puddles of goo. How am I ever going to get this out of my carpets?
Melty vampires are unmelting now! Something is rising from the puddle of rainbow goo and turning into…damn you pointy-face! Apparently, vampires spiked by pointy-face horse turn into little pointy-faces. Argh!
Stupid little pointy-face horses bolted into cat’s nest. Now what do I do? So much worse than vampires.
Banging head on rock now. Cat thinks stupid little pointy-faces are cute, wants to keep them.
Cat has adopted the stupid pointy face ponies. Am consoling myself with 2,000lb sponge cake soaked in rum. Sparkly Holidays! Also, thanks to Aunt Kayeth.
Holy cthulhu, but that was a good rum cake! Is it really Sunday?
A little concerned about cat and the little pointy-face ponies. Think they’re learning to purr, and I doubt they’ll use the power for good.
Woke up to find baby pointy-face horse curled up against me purring. Cute overwhelming will to live. Going to go burn a village as antidote. Kill the cute with fire!
Feels so good to get back to the dragon classics. The village was delicious.
Whole troop of knights have shown up to avenge the village. I love it when that happens. Knight baked in the shell is one of my favorites. Let me just get the old flame ready to go…
Decided to roll some of the knights in tar then dip them in salt before slow roasting. Really seals in the flavor!
Need to find more knights, mounted this time, Aunt Kayath sent me a recipe for pit-roasted charger in full barding.
Was on the way back to the cave when I spied a dwarf mound. Dwarves = treasure, and the hoard’s looking a little tatty, so it’s time to do some digging. Sparkly! Sparkly! Sparkly!
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| impishdragon on Dragon Laffs #2446 |
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Dragon Laffs 