Changes

cookWhat’s up faithful reader? Hope this update finds you well. I certainly can’t complain. I have some news, some observations, maybe a rant or bitch or two and well lets get into the meat of it all and waste no more time.

Lately I have been noticing change. Change in everything really. Obviously things need to change and change is natural. I don’t mind change at all and if I am prepared for it.  I usually welcome change. However I am a firm believer in that once a person or item or situation reached its fundamental pinnacle of perfection or awesomeness then it should be left alone. Of course this doesn’t work with everything otherwise things become stale and life would be boring. So although I preach and welcome the idea of change there is just some shit I wish would be left the hell alone. I’ll give an example.

Fruit Loops! With the exception of raisin bran or oatmeal I probably haven’t ate cereal in twenty plus years. Recently I have delved back into the realm of sugary children’s cereal for breakfast consumption. Now back in the day before all this Michele Obama healthy eating school lunch bullshit and other organic natural food kick there was an entire population of Generation X kids like myself that mainly subsisted on Fruit Loops, Happy Meals, and Totinos toaster oven pizza.

Last week, I bought a box of Fruit Loops Cereal. Right across the top of the box, right above that crazy fucking Toucan Sam with his LBGT friendly rainbow snout is the words, “made with whole grain.” I was like “oh thats nice a healthier option for the kids with anal parents.” I search throughout the grocery store shelves for the “old school gangster” Fruit Loops. You remember the kind made with white enriched full gluten crackling goodness in the three basic colors, and lacquered in pure sugar and the finest of high fructose corn syrup that left the milk in the bowl a rainbow tinged slurry of milk sugar that could keep a kid going all day.

Here I am slinging boxes of this fake Fruit Loop crap behind me in my quest for the real Fruit Loops of my youth. After standing in a pile of semi healthy boxes of Fruit Loops at my feet, and garnering more then one dirty look from a passerby and the fat pig in the electric cart who could not pass my General Mills cereal barricade I realize this new healthful brand of Fruit Loops is all there is for sale. Pissed off I grab a box (hey I am not a quitter and will try anything once) and I punt my way out of the pile of Fruit Loops around my feet swearing under my breath about another lost childhood staple and how the world is in a downward spiral to hell all somehow connected to this new bullshit healthy whole grain version of Fruit Loops.

The following week, I crack open the box one morning and pour a bowl full out. Right away I can tell the actual bits of cereal while still round seem to be smaller and more dense then what I remember of the crack like full puffiness of the originals. Secondly theres about three to four more neon colors in the cereal that I know were not in the original version. I pour in some milk and resign myself to the passing of another staple of my childhood. The taste was ok I guess, and while there was some semblance of the sugary milk payday at the end, it was just not the same.

Why did we have to screw with Fruit Loops? What did we gain? A generation of children grew up eating the old Fruit Loops. Hell Fruit Loops are generally the first real food babies are given to eat. My mother poured the cereal out dry onto the tray of my high chair and I ate those circles of sugary goodness before I could say my name and not crap my diaper. This is where I do not believe in change.

IMG_1476Good Change? A little over a year ago I said goodbye to my angel Golden Retriever Lucille due to cancer. As of this afternoon I now have three dogs in this house with me. A Cocker Spaniel, a Mastiff bulldog mix, and a full AKC Dogue De Bordeaux. Yea I know I haven’t quite got past the point of wondering if I am slowly slipping into “crazy cat lady” like insanity but so far so good. Everyone is getting along, no aggressive posturing so it looks like the pack is growing in size.

His official name is Coconut Head. All my dogs are named after characters from the movie Cool Hand Luke. I pretty much have the main characters of the movie covered now. Lucas, Dragline and now Coconut Head. (Coco) for short. Coco handles all the bets for cool drinks. “Coco we got us a bet here!”

In reality I don’t call any of them by their names. They are all referred to some size of “nug” or nugget. I have Little nugget (short for butt nugget) middle nugget and now big nugget or big nug. mmm yea no really I’m not losing my mind at all.

Anyway this is probably it for me. As I look around the house its not crowded and there is plenty of room for the four of us, but as it stands I can probably only comfortably walk these three dogs at a time. Its also probably on the threshold of lunacy I’ll have to try and  explain away to any future girlfriends I may invite over here.

More good change is Apple finally released the new iOS 7. Lots of people commenting that it looks cartoonish etc. In the end I am finding it a step up in the right direction from what we had with version 6. When it comes to electronics and computers most people get used to something and denounce change but in the end change is good in this case. The evolution of computers and science is based on change and without change well we cant hope to survive as a species. iTunes radio is also about six weeks away from driving the first of the numbered few nails into the coffin of Pandora internet radio. You heard it hear first folks. Watch.

Anyone been watching the final season of Breaking Bad? I’m on that every Sunday night like stank on shit. I am going to be sad when the series ends this next Sunday, but with change there is always something more. Saul Goodman the slick assed lawyer from the show, is getting his own series on AMC. Yep “Better Call Saul” is getting his own show. It will be a prequel of sorts detailing how Saul Goodman came to be the scumbag lawyer we all have come to love. I personally can not wait.

That’s about it.

Let ‘er rip, tater chips!

Tennessee Stud

CashThe Tennessee Stud was long and lean
The color of the sun and his eyes were green
He had the nerve and he had the blood
There was never a horse like the Tennessee Stud – Johnny Cash

Been a long strange week and theres no better way to hold the line then with some Johnny Cash.

Some idiots decided to take out their frustrations of not making friends, money, or getting laid in this country by assembling some crude explosive devices and deploying them against innocent people in a popular foot race in Boston. Some people died, some people lost legs, some people lost their faith in the simple notion of public safety.

Then as has been proven time and again in this nations short history, when things are down we pull together and stand as one. Its a shame it takes such extreme devastation to look past religious or political differences to come together as a nation as was evidenced this past week in the subsequent killing and capture of the two suspects.

None the less we live in different times now. Its not up to our government to protect us from every idiot retard kid with a gun or extreme idealogical asshole with a pipe bomb. One needs to be vigilant and aware of their surroundings at the mall, NASCAR races, football games, or the movie theater. If somethings strange or your gut tells you somethings not right, move along or tell someone.

The kid that lost both his legs, who later in the hospital told the FBI/authorities the bomber looked him in the face, placed the backpack/bomb at his feet and then walked away only two and a half minutes later to have the bomb go off may be hailed as a hero. The fact remains, he unknowingly stood next to a goddamn bomb, after watching the bomber place the pack at his feet and did nothing. While hindsight is always 20/20 in this day and age if you’re out in highly congested areas and some jackass sets a rather large backpack on the ground and moves away in a fashion like he/she isn’t coming back you get your ass out of dodge too.

American BulldogIn other news, I adopted another dog from the local animal shelter. In keeping with my tradition of naming all my animals after characters from the movie Cool Hand Luke, say hello to Dragline.

Drag is about a three year old American Bulldog, Pit, Mastiff and anything else. About a year ago the local no kill shelter got him from the Humane Society which was going to Buddieseuthanize him the very next day. Dragline at the time was heartworm positive and not in good shape. We got him cleaned up, healthy again, and now he is thriving and in my home with my Cocker Spaniel, Lucas Jackson War Hero.

Both dogs are getting along without any overt our outward aggression. I keep my eye on them since they’re both males and when any sizing up to see who is the alpha between the two starts to take place, I get in the middle and show them that neither of them are in charge that I am their pack leader. The last few days around here have been lots of exercise, discipline and love. Rinse lather repeat. Its working.

Guns and the second amendment has been a pretty hot topic these last few months. I will admit I felt good about watching a dejected Obama cry on TV about his gun legislation not getting past the senate. As if I needed to state publicly, I am not in favor of ANY additional gun control. Not “assault” weapons bans or magazine capacity limitations. I do not support private sale background checks. If a government agent can come to my door with a thirty round magazine in an assault type weapon, as long as I am not a convicted felon I should be able to meet that force with the exact same level. Period the end. Its not about hunting, its not about need. Its about simple unalienable right!

.45 auto 1911Last week, a friend of mine whom is new to firearms and shooting wanted to go to a gun range and shoot. I offered my services since any opportunity bring someone new into shooting and firearms with some level of safety and respect is a good thing. I have plenty of guns, been shooting all my life so away we went.

We drove to a brand new indoor rage not to far from here. Plenty of staff, new accommodations and equipment. Gun rental, ammunition, eye and ear protection you know the scene.

After a short questionnaire and hold harmless releases, all new members watch a five minute range safety video. No problem I think and we head over to a small tv in the corner of the establishment.

Its a Saturday, business is good and there are plenty of people in the shop both customer and staff. My friend and I are about a minute into the safety video, the front counter is over my right shoulder behind me where business is being conducted. People buying range ammo, renting guns, having personal weapons safety checked for used on range etc.

Then it happens.

FUCKING BLAM!

In all of about 1/2 second I automatically know what the sound is without even flinching or turning my head. My lady friend who has never really shot or been around guns jumps about three feet straight up. I position myself between her and where the sound came from. I think in my head, “ok we’re at a gun range with clearly armed staff, we’re not being robbed, so the next thing is accidental discharge and I am going to look over there now and see someone bleeding out on the floor if they weren’t already dead.” Remember the elapsed time from gunshot to me making sure my friend was ok, to turning around knowing what I was going to see was all of about 1/2 to 3/4 of a second.

I look over, sure enough accidental discharge. No one is down, no one is bleeding. Good sign. Some young kid staff member had the sense to point the customers weapon into a safe direction while either clearing a jammed weapon or handed a loaded weapon from a customer. I never got the full story, but the rest of the staff didn’t beat the shit out of the customer after the fact so I suspect the staff was trying to clear a jam, which was successful albeit through the wall behind the cash register.

While the entire establishment is deathly silent and in disbelief, I rather loudly proclaim “maybe you guys (staff) need to watch this movie too.”

Everyone is ok, the staff member chokes his balls back out of his throat and excuses himself to go change his pants.

I knew this wasn’t going to be a good start to introducing my friend to the pleasures of shooting and gun ownership. However she was a trooper and continued on. Nervously.

I had my heirloom reworked 1911 .45cal that my grandfather carried in WWII and my father carried in Vietnam. I rented a nice Luger .357 roll gun for my friend as she was interested in revolvers. Now you’re probably thinking “you gave a woman new to shooting, who just stood 10 feet away from an accidental discharge a .357?”

First timersYes I did. I am of the opinion while I have her here go big now and get it over with. You know what? She shot it too and believe it or not with all things considered she did very good with it. It is in fact too much gun for her, but I reassured her this is all part of the process of finding a personal weapon. You shoot a bit of everything, but now she has pretty much as far as kick and power, shot the worst of the worst. Granted there’s the .44 mags and .50 hand cannons but we already know those will never be a part of her arsenal. We put a box through the .357 and .45 and she tries both. She’s never really been around an active busy gun range and shot at the same time, plus with being unnerved with the slight episode in the lobby, she did do well. I was proud of her. We’ll go again to the range and try other guns. She’ll get more accustomed to the sounds and smells, and she’ll one day pick a gun to call her own. All in all a successful fist trip.

Let ‘er rip, tater chips!

Take Away This Ball and Chain

Well I’ve searched and I’ve searchedLuke
To find the perfect life
A brand new car and a brand new suit
I even got me a little wife
But wherever I have gone
I was sure to find myself there
You can run all your life
But not go anywhere

Another Monday and another arduous start to another week. Ugh. Hang in there we’ll suffer together. Strength in numbers and all that good stuff.

First things first. Good news not so good news regarding the new Golden Retriever I was going to adopt. Good news is I found out his real name. Its Endo. Traveller is really Endo. Not so good news I didn’t adopt him from the animal shelter. Good news is last weekend his owners showed up and claimed him. I was a little bummed but more then anything I was happy Endo found his real owners, or more accurately his real owners gave a small shit about him and came looking for him. Glad he’s back where he belongs with his family. Folks if you have pets particularly dogs do the following:

  • Put a fucking colar on them with at least a goddamn tag and phone number
  • If your dog is an escape artist, or you’re a retard who lets the dog run free microchip the dog
  • If you’re going to let your dog stay outside,think aggressive flea and tick control
  • If your dog is sick, take him to a vet

So Endo went back home where he belongs which is good. Hopefully his family takes a little better care of him. The real happy ending is that what the animal shelter is there for and trying to do protecting and getting animals back home or to a good home is actually working.

Moving along…

I did not watch the Golden Globe Awards last night. I couldn’t give any less of a shit about what the Hollywood elite was wearing or their imbecile thoughts on say, global warming, or how bad Taylor Swift is in bed who keeps scaring off men and then writing songs about it. I swear if that broad could go down on some junk as well as she can pen an new blistering song about the poor bastard that took a try with her, I would champion her music until they found Jimmy Hoffa.

What I did do this weekend however was quite monumental. In fact it deserves trumpets and angels playing harps! It’s so big I question whether I have the strength and words to convey such amaze balls here on this little blog. Can you guess what I did? Are you sitting on the edge of your seat? Are you sweating bullets waiting for the big reveal? Are you reading along skimming forward a few words at a time for a spoiler about what I did? Are you screaming in your head “YES, YES, YOU SON OF A BITCH TELL ME WHAT YOU DID!”

Are you ready?

Are you sure?

Better sit down.

I pressure cleaned the driveway. My driveway has returned to middle class white suburbia with a nice fresh look. No longer am I that house with the mildewy driveway. I am now back in the ranks of “hey some clean give a shit dude must live there driveway”. I won the war against my driveway pressure cleaning procrastination. It was a long fight. I was up against the ropes from about October through December, but damn it, I fought the good fight. I was knocked down with power naps, NFL, Moonshiners and Axe Men but I got back up each time. I said to myself “you can do it, follow your dreams Brock, don’t let any nap or intriguing TV tell you that you cant have a nice clean driveway again”. So I kept fighting and getting back up like Cool Hand Luke and I was like “Kick a buck, Kick a buck” adding money to the pot in the poker hand of Brock versus the pressure cleaned driveway. Driveway and life against me all folded and got out of the game, and I won, with nuthin’ because sometimes having “nuthin’ can be a real cool hand!”

Then I made some raisin bread. See?

That’s about it for the weekend. Productive. Hope yours was too.

Peace and love or at the least non-violent acceptance in a friendly manner.

Let ‘er rip, tater chip!