There’s STILL a sucker born every minute.

I’m a real Goop Boy now.

If a price shot of B vitamins gives you the same thrill as taking a dump, why not save time and money, and go take a dump?


Today I learned some new phrases

Say what you will about mindlessly surfing the Internet, I’m always learning something in my semi-random virtual peregrinations

  • Those places aren’t sh!th*les, they’re “fecalized environments,”
  • I had no idea the urge to knock 20 pounds off my lazy ass was “healthism,” and
  • Skipping the purchase of a shooting vest kept me from becoming a “tactical hobo.”

I do have a long-standing peeve against the phrase “earth tones” when applied to clothing.  In my experience that means dirt-colored, for which the widespread remedy seems to be washing everything together in hot water, so it all comes out a dingy grey, like that Abercrombie and Fitch crap the college kids wear.  Not a good look, unless you’re a non-tactical hobo.

However, the well-dressed tactical hobo does wear earth tones.

UpdateTamara Keel sheds some light on the whole tactical hobo thing, and throws some links that lead me to the cringe-worthy term “tacticool.”  Tip from the Instapundit.

Me gusta tomar Tequila

Holy hellfire sh*t!  It turns out tequila is a health food!  It’s a probiotic, no less.  I say ¡Salud!



Artichoke and Shellfish Soup

So I was suddenly confronted with a windfall of canned shellfish when our local WalMart Neighborhood store closed this month.  I decided to get even more serious about recipes based on McIntosh’s Tin Fish Gourmet.  She gives a simple recipe for Oyster and Artichoke Stew, which I embellished beyond all recognition into this rich, creamy (and low-carb) soup:

  • 1 carrot, thinly sliced
  • 1 celery rib, thinly sliced
  • 1/4 red onion, thinly sliced
  • 1 can artichoke hearts, halved
  • 2 tbsp cooking oil
  • 2 oz butter
  • 1/4 cup flour
  • 1 cup milk
  • 1/4 cup sour cream
  • 1 or 2 tins of diced clams, smoked oysters, mussels, or whatever
  • 3 green onions, thinly sliced
  • 1 large avocado, quartered and (you guessed it) thinly sliced

Saute the carrot, celery, and red onion slices in oil until the onion is transparent, then add the artichoke hearts, reserving the liquid for a bit later.  When everything is nicely sauteed, set these vegetables aside.  Add the butter and flour to the pan, and whisk into a roux.  When the roux is bubbling and starting to darken, add the liquid from the artichoke hearts and any liquid from the tinned shellfish to make a sauce.  Once it comes to a boil, add the sour cream and enough milk to get a creamy soup consistency.  Add the sauteed vegetables and the shellfish, and bring to a boil.  Then turn off the heat.

Serve in shallow soup dishes, topped with 3 or 4 slices of avocado and some of the green onion.  This cries out for a dry white wine on the side.



Do you have King Salmon in a can?

At last, we tinned fish eaters will have our day!  Aaron Gilbreath pens an Ode to Canned Fish, and it’s  a treat.


Just a few minutes with Bing found some great suggestions from the Chowhound.  What’s not to like?  I’ve just ordered McIntosh’s Tin Fish Gourmet, and I’ll post recommendations as I try recipes.

Tip from American Digest, which is patronized by a band of deplorable band of canned fish and (gasp!) Spam eaters.



Holy crap!  Staying in the hospital ICU can make you sick.

Tip from Gary Jones, who wouldn’t put a dog (or one of his cattle) in an ICU.


Man Invents Fire, Women and Minorities Hardest Hit

No, really.


I suppose men standing around the barbecue burning meat and drinking beer is just another ritual of the Patriarchy.

Mark Twain was hip to this sort of thinking over a century ago:

In the space of one hundred and seventy-six years the Lower Mississippi has shortened itself two hundred and forty-two miles. That is an average of a trifle over one mile and a third per year. Therefore, any calm person, who is not blind or idiotic, can see that in the Old Oolitic Silurian Period, just a million years ago next November, the Lower Mississippi River was upwards of one million three hundred thousand miles long, and stuck out over the Gulf of Mexico like a fishing-rod. And by the same token any person can see that seven hundred and forty-two years from now the lower Mississippi will be only a mile and three-quarters long. . . . There is something fascinating about science. One gets such wholesale returns of conjecture out of such a trifling investment of fact.

–Life on the Mississippi