Well you know who has shown up at Lem's joint so I think I am going to stop posting there.
I just don't want to be fighting every day with a moron. It is bad enough that Meade is showing his hand as the grifter he has always been. That is sad enough. Now that Nazi cunt is going to make everyone miserable.
It is just not worth it. Lem doesn't get it. The place will be destroyed.
I don't want to be Kung Fu fighting all the time.
81 comments:
I always thought Meade was a grifter because of what I knew about how he started his relationship with the evil blogger lady.
These past few days have really proved that fact.
That video clinched it in fact. I saw what looked like a battered woman looking for approval. It was sad really.
I am getting to the point where I don't want to play this game anymore.
Seriously.
It just smells bad. Really bad.
Maybe Mrs. Spinelli can write a book about a gypsy gardener who scams a lonely senile deluded college professor.
I think it could be a bestseller.
She could call it "Taken for All She is Worth."
Wait, which video?
I'm staying away from Althouse and I'm selectively reading at Lem's (glad to see all the gang, irritated as hell that Meade and Inga have shown up) so I'm not sure what you're referring to. But I am very curious now??
The Nutty Perfesser put up a video on her blog that looks like something out of Patty Hearst's greatest hits. It looks like somebody smashed her in snozola but she later rushed to note it was sunburn. Right.
Meade makes a couple of cameos including a segment where his hand reaches in and he pushes her face.
It seems very off to me.
Well, I for one will miss the literary/showbiz references. Grapes of wrath, the exorcist, Buddy can you spare a time, This Side of Paradise, Show me the money, Cape fear, Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, The Grifters,(Bad News Bears, Goldfinger.
Eclectic.
What do you have against H.P. Lovecraft.
He was a genius.
He warned us of the appearance of Inga for crying out loud.
And Inga showing up is a very bad sign.
If I post over there in the future it will only be in the form of quotes.
I do not want to engage the demons.
Inga showing up is the beginning of the end of that blog.
It is a skin tag on the sunburned buttocks of America.
The cancer will only spread unless it is excised immediately.
H.P. Lovecraft - haven't read him yet. Heard he was "the twentieth century's greatest practitioner of the classic horror tale".
Wisconsin is a community property state, I understand....
I think you will like him rc.
It is a little literary and in a style not common nowadays but it can be pretty fucking scary.
I also highly recommend James Herbert who is more contemporary but a great horror writer. My favorite book of his is called The Rats.
Makes Stephen King look like a pussy.
I won't be speaking directly to Inga over there. Just talking back to her on occasion in a new voice: Inga Schwatzenegger
Well, that's what happens when it gets all tribal, territorial, truthy and turfy. There's pretty much no space left for anything else: which, hell--what the hell--why not. Places and spaces belong to those who own 'em. Amirite?
Meanwhile, I think it's mostly about bodies of people. Pretty hilarious, that a song I disliked decades ago on so many levels turns out to so well illustrate a 21st Century twisted zeitgeist and shine humorous light on age-old tribalism.
Link text
@rcommal: Your links don't seem to work work for me. :(
________________
I remember climbing the stone spiral staircase up and down that tower. It was kind of freaky because of the tilt. I heard they closed it off now to tourists, but I was a traveler then, searching for a Heart Of Gold.
Meanwhile, I think it's mostly about bodies of people.
Does that link work, chickelit?
That is so right.
That turf belongs to Lem.
If he enjoys Meade and Inga....well God bless.
0
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Y'know, I dunno anymore.
Tell you what, Troop: Do me a favor.
Delete me from the access list to your blog. Ain't no point in my saying anything, and I'd be far better off not being able to see what's said.
XXOO
Thanks, in advance.
200 year old rockfish...
I do not care if Meade and Inge are over at Lem's. It was interesting for a day and it could have been a good joint to hang in, but let them have their thing.
I will pop in occasionally, like to report on the rest of the story on the rockfish...
I just want to say I had a similar reaction to Trooper's about the video. I don't know about Althouse being "battered," but the approval-seeking I noticed really got to me.
Things change, and, if we're lucky, our illusions fall away. I do not like the way Althouse treated me, but that has nothing to do with the creepy feeling I got from that video.
Well, now I don't want to lose two nights' sleep over it.
That fish looks sunburned.
Verging on old, and sunburned.
Pisa? It is open again up to the top. And when you go there there are dozens of people doing exactly what that photo shows. Pretty funny.
It still amazes e that if you drop a 200 yo fish and a 64 yo fish from the top of that tower they'll both die at exactly the same time.
Yeah, but toss them both off the moon and watch 'em fly.
They were chopping them up
and they were chopping them down...
and everybody knew their part
From a feint into a slip,
and kicking from the hip.
As long as they weren't shooting from the hip, it's all cool
P O V, baby, P O V
@ChipS, I'm glad you're posting again on your perspective.
POV indeed, MamaM.
Thx for the encouragement.
Nice one Chip, except a Pisan would never throw a perfectly tasty rock fish off a tower.
Unless it was spoiled...
Well, Lem's place had a good run.
Face it, he is a sycophant and just not that bright. I would add a gratuitous swipe at who he roots for, but that might mean that I like the Y*nkees.
I am a Washington Senators fan. But that means that baseball has been dead to me since 1971. Or 1960. Come to think of it, fuck the Senators, too. They sucked anyway. Their manager's head is on a can in a fucking freezer somewhere, talking to Walt Disney.
It still amazes e that if you drop a 200 yo fish and a 64 yo fish from the top of that tower they'll both die at exactly the same time.
This reminds me of a musician joke [just one of a gazillion I heard from birth] that my dad used to tell, on...more than few occasions:
Two guys meet at the top of the Empire State Building to drop off their instruments. One drops a tuba and the other drops an accordion. Which tool hit the ground first?
[answer:] Who cares?
***
Bah-bhom;--Wh-e-e-e-ze!!! (My musician mom would sometimes add, which I thought was the best part, when she did so.)
Seriously, though, Troop.
Take me out of it.
What's the difference between a viola and a violin?
The viola burns longer.
How is a banjo different than a chainsaw?
You can tune a chainsaw.
What happens when a viola player dies?
You move her back a chair.
What is perfect pitch?
When you toss a banjo into a dumpster and it lands squarely on the accordion.
Why do bluegrass songs have names?
So you can tell them apart.
I'll be here all week...
You know it's really time to let go of it. Too much energy is being forfeited on matters beyond your control. The karma is not good, not good. Your chakras are all plugged up. You really need to let go of anger and bitterness. Focus on the beauty of life. Ignore everything else.
*Dims the lights*
*Closes the drapes*
*Lights candles*
Awright people, join in.
Ooooommmm.. Ooooooommmmmmm....
Breathe willfully and deeply. In. Out. In. Out. Close your eyes. Relax your mind. Breathe. Still your mind. Tell your brain "Get that anger and crap out of my head".
Oommmmm.....Ooooommmmmmm.
*Sloooowly opens the drapes*
*Blows out the candles*
Okay, slowly get up and re-enter the day happy and filled with joy. Now go forth and be happy and calm.
Peace.
Now that we're all filled with joy and peace, we should go to Lem's and ask Meade to show his sincerity by spending money at Trooper York's.
Hahahaha. You rock, Michael.
I liked your jokes, Sixty!
I loved the bluegrass one, especially. Though I do love the music.
Have I shared my favorite new country song yet? It's called "Don't Ya" by Brett Eldridge. I'm going to be dancing to that soon.
Look at Darce, goin' out dancin'.
I once learned the Texas Two Step. I was down in Dallas, had me some new cowboy boots, a spiffy cowboy shirt with all the trimmings and what do you know - we all had a good ol' time down in that honky tonk.
Why don't Southern Baptists have sex standing up?
It could lead to dancing.
I see Meade is still going on about donating to Lem over there.
That's Meade - full of disgrace.
But you posted a comment Darcy, I got to thinkin' about dancin', and now I better go get my mind right.
Maybe take the rifle down to the gunsmith. Is that a euphemism?
Hahaha. I love you, Sixty.
The Predicament
Do you hold it up?
Or push it down?
The leaning tower of Pisa, that is,
In a typical tourist picture.
Probably you'd want holder uppers to pioneer.
Then when the walls started crowding in
You'd want pusher downers.
Then you'd ride away into the glorious sunset.
And start the whole shebang all over again.
But we've run out of space!
Dammit.
To riff of Sixty's comment about Baptists and dancing (and you can substitute Mormons for Baptists:
Why do you always take two SBs fishing? If you take one he will drink all your beer
Why are there so many drive thru liquor stores in the south? So the deacons to have see their congregation if they bought it in the store
How come a SB deacon knows everyone in town until he runs into them in the liquor store.
oops--so the deacons DONT have to see their congregation.
Dang, Roger J., you used up my material!
I was going to write:
What's the difference between a Methodist and a Southern Baptist?
A Methodist will say hello to you in the liquor store.
But I can't do that now.
So this one is for Troopski:
A man walks into the woman's section of a department store and tells the sales clerk he wants to buy a bra for his wife.
"What type of bra?" asked the clerk.
"Type?" inquires the man,"there's more than one type?"
"There are three types," replies the clerk, "The Catholic type, the Salvation Army type, and the Baptist type. Which one do you need?"
Still confused the man asked, "What is the difference in them?"
The clerk responds, "It is really very easy. The Catholic type supports the masses, the Salvation Army type lifts up the fallen and the Baptist type makes mountain's out of mole hills."
ricpic said...
The Predicament
Do you hold it up?
Or push it down?
The leaning tower of Pisa, that is,
In a typical tourist picture.
I've been there twice: in 1979 and again in 1993. I never once notice people posing as if to push it down.
I'd bet that if someone could count the number holder-uppers vs. the number pusher downers over the years, the latter would have increased over the former.
Sad, really
TTBurnett said...
Well, now I don't want to lose two nights' sleep over it.
Tim, Don't let her get to you so.
Sixty--sorry to preempt you--however I have a vast assortment of Boudreau and Thibidox jokes, along with Sven and Ole Jokes to fill in.
I know its not politically correct anymore, but I gotta tell you: ethnic jokes resonante--and are damn funny.
Sixty--I do a fair amount of trout fishing in Arkansas where most of the counties west of the white river are dry. HOWEVER--many pharmacies has a little cubby under the counter with a sliding door--you order you particular beverage, pay for it, and is put in the cubby--The patron then opens the cubby and gets the bagged hooch. Its not a bad system and reduced the chance of eye contact. :)
EPR, hold-ups are old school. Knockdowns are new school.
So Boudreau is walking home from the bar on Sunday, drunk as usual--the Baptists are having a revival on the banks of the Bayou. The minister spots Boudreau and says come over here--you need to be saved--Boudreau says OK man what I have to do--Minister says you have to find Jesus. Minister takes boudreau and puts the cloth over his mouth and nose and dunks him the Bayou. Lifts him up and says Boudreau have you found Jesus--Boudreau say no man, haven't found him. MInister repeats the process--Asks him again have you found Jesus--Boudreau say--no man--are you sure he fell in here?
Apologies to Cajuns everywhere--they are the best.
Hey, I'm digging how everyone over at Lem's is mostly ignoring everything Meade posts. Very cool. Just ignore him.
"The Rats." I assume they like to eat people.
I mean live people.
Michael--ignoring is the best revenge--I got into with meade over the weekend--he apologized and I accepted it--and I believe it was sincere--but that was the end of it and I wont respond again
De motor fell of de back of de pirogue an' sank to de bottom, leavin' Boudreaux an' Thibodeaux stranded out in de middle of de bayou.
Boudreaux he swim down to de motor lyin' dere at de bottom of de bayou, an' start pullin' on de rope to start it up. Try as he might, he can't get it to start.
Thibodeaux think for a moment about how to fix de situation, den he yell down to Boudreaux "Pull out de choke!"
Very cool. Just ignore him.
That's what they said about Hitler. Next think you know he's visiting Paris with the 12 Panzer division.
Sixty: Boudreau and thib are out fishing and they found the honey hole. Boutdreau say we got to find this place again--thib say--how we do dat? Boudreau say that's easy thib--we just mark the bottom of the boat with an X
Sixty--as I mentioned I do love the company of Cajuns--the best Mardi Gras is around Lafayette--all the small town go all out. I particularly like Eunice where they have two bands--one a zydeco and one a traditional Cajun--great dancing and great eats. Worth visiting if you have a chance. wear your dancing shoes.
@ Roger
Oh man I love those Boudreau and Thibidox jokes!! I can really laugh at those since my Father was born in New Orleans and we have family connections still in that part of the country.
DBQ--thanks Missy--I have more but probably will be wasting band width to tell them :) Hope all is well with you the plumber. Even if you are living on the wrong side of the Mississippi.
After my daddy graduate Tulane he go work in de bayous.
He used to tell de stories wit de Cajun accen' and keep us all laffin'.
We got dem deep roots in de bayou an' de muddy Mississip.
Sixty--as it turns out my dad got his MD from Tulane--did his residency in Charity hospital--its a damn small world
OK--one last boudreau joke and I am done--so beaudreau comes back to the trailer where his wife Cherie lives--Cherie say: boudreau, you gotta do sumtin about this here hound dog--all he do is sit on the porch and turn over garbage cans--Boudreau say, mon cher--what I need to do--Cherie say take him out, and run around the bayous and drop him off
Boudreau say yes mon cher--I do dat--so boudreau load the hound dog up in the back of the pick up, drives around in the bayous and drops the dog off. Boudreau goes back to the house and in 30 minutes the dog is back
Cherie say--Boudreau I thought I tol you to get rid of this dog--Boudreau say Mon Cher--what should I do? She say drive around three bayous, past the canebreaks and drop him off--Boudreau does that and is gone two hours.
Cheries phone rings--Its boudreau--Mon Cher--did dat dog come back? Sherie say yes boudreau. Boudreau say--well put him on--I gotta find out how to get home.
Well, I didn't want to mention that, you know how people profile and whatnot, but my pop graduated from Tulane medical school too, likewise did his residency at Charity.
All the documentation has been lost, but if he started at Milsaps in '32, at age 16, he would have finished med school in about 1940 or so.
He used to deliver babies down in the bayous - said he charged $5 per. Yeah, not having to buy malpractice insurance sure made a difference.
Anyway, the place he worked at in Louisiana was a combination gas station, drug store and clinic. When he got there, being a curious sort of guy, he asked his boss, the proprietor, which one of those undertakings provided the most income.
The boss said "Come aroun' cheer" and led him out back to the oil derrick which was pumpin' crude right up out of the groun'.
"That's what makes me the most money, boy, now get back to work!"
Fiona is Ann. No doubt about it. Such anger and bitterness in both of them. It's an illness, really.
Sixty--Small world indeed--my GF went to Millsaps--my dad started med school in the late 1920s--he was good pianist and made extra money playing NO jazz bands--after his residency at Charity, he moved to Miami, married my mom, and the rest is history.
Are Norwegian jokes allowed here?
Ole and Inga are vorking in Ole's garden on a hot summer day. They are working up a thirst.
"Inga" says Ole, vhy dontcha go to Sven's bar und buy us a six pack of beer?"
So Inga walks down the road to Sven's bar and walks in.
"Heya Inga" says Sven. Vot I can do for ya?"
"Ole's hot and he vantsa beer" says Inga.
"Hokay" says Sven. "Anheuser Busch?"
"Oh, purty good" says Inga "An hows yer pecker?"
damn--a sven and ole joke--so ole comes into sven's chainsaw shop and wants a chainsay--Sven sez ole I got just thing--cut me three cords off wood yesterday--Ole buys it. Comes back three days latter and sven--this chain saw doesn't work--sven says let me see it--He fires up with a big noise--Ole looks at him and Sven--whats dat noise?
Michael--yours was better than mine, I gotta tell you--I will plagiarize that one.
So identical twins are separated at birth--both are adopted. One goes to an Egyptian home where he is named Amahl. the goes to a Spanish home where he is named Juan. Much later there is custody fight over the identifies of the children. We cant tell the identities of the children. The judge looks at the children and says this is easy--When you have seen Juan you have seen Amhal.
My father was a concert-level pianist. He could play Chopin, Liszt, Rachmaninoff and sight read Bach like there was no tomorrow.
Of course he could also play some mean barrel house blues and boogie, and we grew up listening to Louis Armstrong on 78s - his Hot Five and Hot Seven records were amazing.
What a place and time that must have been.
And both of my parents were Milsaps grads - they met there. Put you through the mill, then you come out a sap, they used to say.
Pop joined the Uniform Public Health Service during the big one, and ran, as my uncle, the Marine who fought at Tarawa and Guadalcanal said, "A clap shack" in Kinston NC, just down east of here.
My side of the family is like the un-Lt. Dans - no one fell in any war.
My great-grandfather fought in the Mississippi 19th, but went AWOL.
I guess that's why I am here. Or something.
Michael--yours was better than mine, I gotta tell you--I will plagiarize that one.
Honored. That's how it came into my possession.
Out of ostensible habit, I still check in for a second or two just to make sure she hasn't relented. Sure enough, no relenting.
And then a Billy Idol song plays in my head: Talking to myse-elf, A-hahaha, talking to my se-elf! Ahahaaa!
Sweat! Sweat! Sweat! Sweat! Sweat! Sweat! Sweat!
You can't fool the fat man
No, you can't fool me
You're just a two-bit grifter
That's all you'll ever be
Good call on the James Herbert, Troop. "Rats" is definitely a good one.
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