Saturday, October 12, 2002

Go visit Silent Running . He's way better than me, plus he has cool flags, i.e. not France. I can only assume he's not a tree hugger. How do you do that?

By the way, he's not so silent.

Everyone knows it's windy...

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And Don't Take any Wooden Nickles...

Tip: Do yourself a favor and wash your hands thoroughly after handling any type of hot pepper. If you don’t and then happen to pick your nose like someone we know, you will have an extremely painful experience. If this happens to you, do what we did; stick a small piece of white bread up your nose. Not all the way so you can’t get it out, you idiot. Just enough to soak up the hotness and so it’s visible and you can be made fun of. This will help you to remember to wash your hands. And for God’s sake don’t touch your or anybody else’s genitals. This also happened to us. We don’t want to go into it, just trust us. It’s really painful and white bread doesn’t help.

You're welcome.

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Stupid Questions

More mail...

Dear B.I.,

Do you just post any moronic thing that pops into your tiny, little head?

Sincerely,

Rob


Dear Rob,

Yes.

B.I.

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Deep Thoughts

There's something about the sound of bagpipes that make me want to giggle and crap myself at the same time.

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Bloviating Inanities:

Redefining Inane, one post at a time.

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Shout Out to Pops

Dad, the Jets still suck.

Some things never change.

I really miss him
He would have loved this
I hope he can hear me
-Bosstones

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They Made Me Do It

Al, Lisa, Stevie.

Thanks, guys.

There's much love.

Should we live on the Dutch side or the French?

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It's 4:45 in the AM and this is Perspectives

I'm not Lionel Osborne. I'm also reading A Prayer for Owen Meany by John Irving which I read about 10 years ago when I was a flaming liberal. I'm reading it again to see if I enjoy it as much as I did then. So far, it ain't happening but it's still early.

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In the "Who Cares" Department

I'm finally reading Friday Night Lights which was recommended to me by a Marxist friend so I should have known. It's supposed to be about a football team in Texas and how it affects a town. The author spends about 2 chapters descibing the team and town and the rest of the book blaming the failure of the team, the town, the country and the world on the Reagan/Bush administrations.

Yawn.

Don't buy it here.

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Not Another Recipe

Republicans will gain in both the house and senate.

The Dems are devoid of ideas and are on the ropes. If Bush is stupid and he's running circles around Daschle, Gephardt, et. al., what does that make the Dems?


In a nutshell - Democrats want stuff. Republicans/Libertarians do stuff.

Look at the respective platforms. What else can you conclude.

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Mad, mad love

So I lied. I am posting this weekend thanks to the webmaster.

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We Get Mail Too

Blantantly ripping off Happy Fun Pundit, a recent e-mail...

Dear B.I.,

You're an ass. All you talk about are license plates and spam recipes.

Love,

Mom

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More Moldy Goodness

No, this isn't the Martha Stewart Living (in a trailer park..or jail) website. But here's another one for a rainy Saturday afternoon. Or for a dinner party. If you want them never to come back.

Rosemary’s Babyback Ribs


1 Rack of Babyback Ribs
½ tsp. Rosemary
12 oz. Barbecue Sauce
1 Scotch Bonnet Pepper (finely chopped)

Note: This can be served as a fiery appetizer or a spicy main dish.

Coarsely chop rosemary. Discard. Add pepper to barbecue sauce and stir. Thoroughly coat ribs with sauce leaving some sauce for basting. Grill ribs over medium heat, basting frequently. Remove from grill when done.

Alternatives

Prepare recipe above minus the pepper. Leave pepper whole and set aside. While grilling ribs, eat the pepper whole and jot down your experience on a piece of paper. Also take notes on how it feels coming out the next day. Send your observations to Bill and Hillary Clinton.

Pour barbecue sauce on the front of your shirt and run out of your front door screaming that you have been stabbed.

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Ask and Ye Shall receive

Somebody actually liked the personal plates thing so I'll try to have more. It'll require driving to work and finding them. But I promise more soon. For now, here's another recipe requested by a reader, Lisa (my sister) from the unpublished Stop the Mold I Want to Get Off:

Spamwiches

1 Can of Spam
Velveeta Processed Cheese Food
Ritz Crackers
Pimentos (for garnish)

Cut slices of the canned meat and an equal amount of cheese food. Place both on a cracker and garnish with a pimento.

Alternatives

Substitute Hormel Pepperoni slices for the Spam.
Add pickles or relish.
Leave out the pimento.
Leave out the first two ingredients and the pimento.

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And The Wind Cried...Lileks

Don't forget to read The Backfence. Dave Barry could learn from this guy.

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Newsflash

Update: Rachel Lucas still hates Al Gore.

Thanks, Rach.

Read her early and often. Then read her archives. I promise you'll laugh so hard stuff will shoot out of your nose.

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Friday, October 11, 2002

OK, the webmaster isn't done but here's something incoherent from Lileks making believe he's a Byrd...I know I've already linked to this but I'm drinking tequila.

We now take you live to the Senate floor, where Sen. Robert Byrd has been speaking for the last 17 hours.

"Never in my 90 years in this body have I seen such wax poured into the ears of the very people who ought to listen closely to the drumbeats of war, drummin’ away, drummin’ for war like the drumbeats of war, and ask themselves why are the drums beating, now, weeks away from an election that ought to be about hoofbeats, loud hoofbeats, hoof hoof hoofbeats of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse? Need I remind my colleagues that one of those Horsemen is War? Famine is one of the other ones, and I need not remind my colleagues what it’s like to be hungry. We’ve all sat through a long speech that went past lunchtime. All of us. Some of you might not remember the debate over national standards in the proportions of cement blocks. I do. I remember the sons and daughters of people whose parents gave birth to Senators passing out from hunger during that debate. Fine men. Brave men. They gave their suppah for the country. And now we’re rushing to war. To war! Where in the Constitution does it say that we should rush to war without supper? Without even so much as a little platter of crackers and that cheese that has the yellow and the white all mixed up, like it’s some kind of Dalmatian dog made of cheese? I have never. Never! If you read the Constitution, you’ll see we’re supposed to advahs an’ consent. We’re supposed to considuh. We’re supposed to argue - no, Mr. Chairman, I will not yield my time - we’re supposed to ask the necessary questions, not just roll over like a pig and stamp OK on an IOU and say well, it’s not a blank check, it’s a IOU, we’ll get paid back later. Are we going to let the president pay off the IOU with a blank check? We don’t even know if an IOU to a pig is legally binding. We’re like someone whose hood got all turned around, so the eyeholes are off and you can’t quite keep your eyes on the flames, and - hold on, I’m fillin’ the bag . . . there. Now. Let me tell you a story about a sheep, and a violin, and a boy who thought he could fly. The sheep was named Ebeneezer. Ebeneezer. They gave sheep names like that in my day. But they called a violin a fiddle, because sometimes they called a banjo a 'poor man’s fiddle,' just as they called the viola 'A rich man’s banjo.' I used to play 'Turkey in the Straw' on my fiddle, and sometimes it seems like that’s what we all are now, turkeys lost in the Straw of War, about to jump off a cliff because we believe we can fly with a sheep under our arm, just like in the story. Does the Constitution give us the power to jump off cliffs and take alllll the brave men and women sheep in uniform with us? In my 127 years standing at this podium I have never -"

Okay, that’s enough.

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The webmaster is currently working on this site in a tequila haze. We will return shortly with something incoherent.

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Jeez! 175 visits on my first day. Who the hell is reading this crap? Thanks to everyone.

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Time to go home and drink heavily. Cheers.

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Cheeses Christ

Here's a recipe from the book I'm not writing called Stop the Mold I want to get Off. I started it because my brother in law brought a mold to Thanksgiving one year with chunks of God-knows- what in it and I started thinking about really bad food and, well, who cares.

Cheeses Christ

1 pkg. Cream Cheese
½ c. Sour Cream
½ c. Ricotta Cheese
1 pkg. Lipton’sTM Onion Soup Mix
1 Tbs. Chives
¼ c. Pimentos Chopped

Mix all ingredients thoroughly. Form into the shape of a cross. Serve with a light Eucharist, unleavened bread or RitzTM crackers.

Alternatives

Cheeses, Mary and Joseph-If you’re feeling creative and have some artistic ability, double the recipe and, using your favorite picture of Joseph and the Virgin Mary, sculpt the cheese mixture into a likeness of the two. Closely place individual kernels of corn around their heads to form halos!

I've got a million of 'em.

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Green Scrotum is an excellent name for a rock band.

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Honesty

I weep with joy. VodkaPundit linked to me. Only because I shamelessly begged him. I have 75 visits on my first day. I am forever in his debt. But what exactly did he mean by the 'Honesty' heading?

Now if he would only make me a permanent link and send me money.

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It worked and thanks to BlogOut but how do you change the shout out to like, uh, comments.

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Tryin to add comments. Hope it works.

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Dear reader (and I do mean it in the singular): I won't be able to post this weekend for reasons I won't go into here but if you want to comment on any of the contents herein, I finally have comments. Or Shout Out, which I hate and don't know how to change. Help? Knock yourselves out.

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More Impersonals…

As promised, more PP’s…

PP: THE JETS
Translation: The Jets
WIC: I love the NY Jets. Some say a little too much. Every article of clothing I own is green and I was arrested twice last year for stalking Vinny Testaverde. Is Testaverde Italian for green scrotum?

PP: ALIV GIRL
Translation: A Live Girl
WIC: I am a female with normal vital signs and want you to know this in case you were worried about me. Well, thank God because it would have been awfully disturbing to find a corpse behind the wheel of that Honda Civic going 65 mph.

PP: COOLKID
Translation: Cool Kid
WIC: I think I’m pretty cool. Buddy, if you feel like you have to tell the world, you ain’t.

PP: MOCEAN
Translation: Motion (with the adorable beach theme thrown in)
WIC: Not only am I clever, I live at the beach and I’m “on the go”. Okay everybody, all together, tell MOCEAN where he can go.
PP: ND I BSNS
Translation: In The Eye Business
WIC: I’m an extremely cheap ophthalmologist, which is evident because I advertise on my license plates. Ask me about laser eye surgery! I use the term “laser” loosely. It’s actually a lighter and a safety pin.

Thank you. I'll be here all week.

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I'm fascinated by post-modernism in a horrified sort of way. It amazes me that anybody buys into this crap. But buy they do. By the truckload. Professors dish it out and students lap it up. The worst part is that the people that do subscribe to this way of thinking are supposed to be smart. But higher education is becoming a wasteland and if you don't believe me (and why should you), go here. Be very afraid.

For everything you ever wanted to know about the horrors and sheer assininity of post-modernist thought, visit CantWatch. Erin O'Connor's PoMo bullshit detector is on. Check her archives for tons of great No Mo' PoMo.

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I was driving home for lunch and since I live close to Oceana Naval Air Station in Virginia Beach, I frequently see fighter jets (F18's?) flying in formation. It's an awesome sight and it never fails to make me smile. I've lived here for 8 years and have always been fascinated by them. I love jet noise. So it really peeves me to hear people complaining about the noise when they moved to a goddamned navy town in the first place. So move or stop whining. Jeez. As a matter of fact, everybody stop whining. Just SHUT. UP. Especially the voices in my head.

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I finally have my very own blog and I'm mad with power.

I can call VodkaPundit a big poopyhead.

Or I can call him a freakin' genius.

Go read him.

We distort, you decide.

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Down on the Corner, out in the street
Jonah Goldberg's got a G-File that'll make you bust a spleen.

Before I get into the details, let me issue a challenge right from the start. I think the suits should stage a debate between Dreher and Goldberg on the next National Review Cruise. Indeed, I will debate Rod anywhere, anytime, so long as it is on the High Seas and I have a daiquiri in my hand. In fact, I don't care if it's about crunchy conservatives or whether two-ply toilet paper represents the End of History according to the Fukuyamian paradigm.

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Today, a hilarious Byrd bleat. Go read it now.

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Impersonal

How do you sum up your life in 8 letters or less? Why, personalized plates of course! I commute about an hour a day so I see entirely too many of these gems. Since I live in Virginia Beach, many of them are – surprise! – beach related. Below are some I have seen. Enjoy!

PP: BCH LIVN
Translation: Beach Living
What it conveys: I live in Virginia Beach. I go to the beach frequently. Don’t you envy me? Well, no BCH LVN because I live here too. So do most of the people who see your plate.

PP: DA BECH
Translation: The Beach
WIC: It’s not just a pile of sand, it’s a state of mind! I am one of those constantly tan people that everyone hates. My plates were going to say MELANOMA but it was taken.

PP: BCH BUM
Translation: Beach Bum
WIC: I spend entirely too much time at the beach, which tends to interfere with my employment. That is why I am driving a 1978 Pacer held together by duct tape and string.

PP: WLD PONY
Translation: Wild Pony
WIC: I own a Ford Mustang. My life is so inane and devoid of meaning, I define myself by this purple hunk of steel.

PP: EXHALEN
Translation: Exhaling
WIC: I just loved Waiting to Exhale! I just love Halle Berry! I wish I were Halle Berry. A mediocre movie fills the empty void that is my life. I am pathetic.

PP: LUVBUG
Translation: Love Bug
WIC: I drive a Volkswagen Beetle. I am adorable and so is my car. Oh, who am I kidding. I’m overweight, divorced and will end up eating a gun before I finish the payments on this death trap.

PP: 3000 GT
Translation: 3000 GT
WIC: I drive a 3000 GT. Just in case you didn’t see the 3000 GT’s emblazoned all over the front, back and sides of the car, I thought I’d put it on the plates as well. Don’t want anyone confused. My creativity, to say nothing of my self-worth, is non-existent.

PP: MY TOY
Translation: My Toy
WIC: I drive a Toyota. Get it?? Toy – Toyota? It’s my car and it’s my toy (ota). I am humor-impaired and mildly retarded.


PP: ME&EDDI
Translation: Me and Eddie
WIC: I am sleeping with a guy named Eddie. We will be together forever. Not likely, Toots with the divorce rate the way it is. I give you and Eddie 8 months. Order your new plates now. Here’s a suggestion – LONELY.

PP: ND 80
Translation: Notre Dame 1980
WIC: I graduated in 1980 from a prominent university. I’m very intelligent. OK, I’m a dickless weenie with low self-esteem so every little bit helps.

PP: CU IN NY
Translation: See You In New York
WIC: I am originally from New York and frequently go back home to visit my semi-literate relatives. I‘m not exactly sure how I became part of her travel plans.

PP: HLP4ADD
Translation: This could mean anything but my take is Help for A.D.D. (Attention Deficit Disorder)
WIC: My son’s attention span is that of a rhesus monkey on crystal meth. Luckily, I am a pharmaceutical sales rep so the Ritalin’s on the house.


That’s all for now. I’ll have more in the future since there is no shortage of these people. To all of you who have personalized plates, thanks for providing me with material and don’t stop trying (and failing) to amuse the rest of us.














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Holy crap! I forgot Lileks too. Read him everyday. I do. And buy his book. Now.

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Forgot to mention Happy Fun Pundit. Sorry guys.

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Thursday, October 10, 2002

Finally did it, Al!

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My name is Bill Cimino. I work in Norfolk, VA and live in Virginia Beach with my wife Alice and 3 cats, Modean, Denny and Jake. I started this weblog because I love to write and wouldn't mind being read. I also hate Patrick Leahy. My inspiration to start this crap however, was due to months of reading Glenn Reynolds, Tim Blair, Stephen Green, Scott Ott, Rachel Lucas, Erin O'Connor and dozens of others. I read these guys before the Washington Post and NY Times. Thanks to all.

I'm just starting so please pardon the crappiness.

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