T Park Social D...it's official.

The T-Park officials have finally released some social distancing guidelines.

Our residency has seen a marked increase in population with the courts being closed and so many petty criminals being released from jail in order to minimize the possible spread of the virus.  Every day there are up to 10 new homemade "Welcome Home Dad!", "Thank You, China!" or similar signs at the Park's entrance.  All of the early paroles and easy bails have really made the usual natural social distancing a challenge.

Until now, any official instructions on social self quarantining have been understandably delayed since most residents are naturally reclusive, hiding from insurance fraud investigators, under a restraining order, or are on house arrest.  Many of the rest who aren't avoiding some sort of actual authority or legal actions still minimize social interaction or time outside of their trailers due to "everyone being a fucking NARC" or to avoid "the man" who evidently has listening devices everywhere, or are simply binge-watching Duck Dynasty yet again.  One neighbor told me that as of 2 weeks ago, all ankle bracelets have received a remote update that emits an audible tone when it's within 6 feet of another.  That's pretty freaking handy when you think about it.  So even before the distancing guidelines were published, I have been feeling pretty safe here in the Park.

Of course, nobody here believes any of the information from the CDC or WHO.  Given the 2020 election signs that have been in most yards since soon after the last presidential election, I doubt too many fellow residents search beyond a single Twitter account for information.  But some must because the wild theories abound.  The most popular one at the moment is that this whole thing started when Kobe Bryant's helicopter crashed because it was overloaded with Corona beer.  This particular theory fits the necessary bill for T-Park reasoning:

1-"Kobe" sort of rhymes with "COVID" and most residents heard both words for the same time at the relatively same time and have been confusing them with one another ever since.
2-Corona beer sharing the name with a virus can NOT be a coincidence.  And it ain't Bud Light.  (I don't know if Corona sponsors a NASCAR team, but I suspect the brand's involvement or lack thereof is also at play here.)
3-The crash happened in California (where all pure evil is spawned).
4-The NBA as a whole is suspect in any and all National issues.

I personally don't care what theory they go with, as long as they know that SOMETHING is going on and that they should keep their distance.

For now, the Park is safe.  We'll see what tomorrow brings.

Rednecks: You need a murse!

I just returned from 2 weeks in Europe.  I mean Europe in the most accurate way.  London, Brussels, Prague, Croatia, Venice, Bavaria, France....and all in between by road.  It was as stunning as it sounds.  But that isn't the purpose of this post.  I discovered something in my travels, something that I have known about for years but only experienced for myself for the first time on this trip.  It is the convenience of carrying a satchel...a messenger bag...a "European carry all" (thank you Jerry Seinfeld)....a, for lack of better Americanly understandable term, murse.

I took a vintage 1930's US military messenger bag with me with the intent of using it as my murse for the trip and take full advantage of the social acceptability which eludes us here in America: the land of the stigmas.  My vintage bag soon proved to be more of an actual antique however when the stitching started to show it's age and come apart.  I was in Venice at the time and bought a true hand-made for the purpose, Italian leather man's bag.  It was convenient beyond my imagination and I can't wait to continue to use it as I see fit.

Being an American, however, I am forced to consider the social acceptability of my murse regardless of the convenience.  Mostly due to the prevailing redneckishness of my fellow Americans, particularly in my region of the country.  During this consideration it dawned on me that there is no group of American males that would benefit more from wide acceptance of the murse than the red-blooded red neck.

I used MY murse to carry what I considered to be the daily necessities of a traveller: my phone, wallet, keys, passport, e-cigarette & accesories, map, etc. as well as anything else that would have otherwise required my filling of my own pockets or that I ask one of my female travel companions to act as my personal pack mule.  Having my own bag is liberating not to mention very intelligent if not only for the fact that it cuts down on thievery since most such criminals are looking at females as the easier target.  Slung across the shoulder of some of my redneck paranoia-fueled gun toting wannabe friends the murse would be invaluable even beyond what I experienced.  Even with all of my chosen contents there was still ample room for a handgun, extra ammo, a few cans of tobacco, a pocket knife, some pliers (don't laugh....I've seen some carry pliers in a special pouch on their belt), a carefully folded white hood, a small framed picture of the Bush of your choice....you name it, there is room.  I'll bet a carefully configured spit-cup could even be carried.  Plus, while mine is fine Italian leather, a murse could easily be fashioned out of any material of your choice with any design.  Just imagine the sense of security you would feel from knowing that your 9mm, your GOP membership card, your Sarah Palin lip balm, and your tiny noose you carry for good luck are all tucked safely inside a David Allen Coe or David Duke signature bag made from a rebel flag?  Sounds pretty cool, eh?

Think about it before you judge me carrying mine.

You need a murse.

Random Thursday fun

Maintain silent and unwavering eye contact, regardless of head position, with the barber during a haircut.

For added fun, ask for the amount you plan to tip in dimes. Then make rain.

The next day, run in all frantic like and ask for your clippings back.

Fun thing to do on Monday

Call auto body shops and ask if they offer a flat "per bullet hole" rate.  If they ask for what kind of car, say you're not sure yet.

The most annoying thing about runners....

When I see a person running, and they aren't being chased or in some state of escape, I am annoyed by them.

I say this as a recovering runner.  I used to run a lot.  A whole lot.  I have the screwed up knees to prove it.  I want to stop now, before continuing, and apologize to anyone who might have seen me running.  It must have been very annoying.  I wish I could go back in time and not run, but I can't.

What is it exactly about runners that is so annoying?  There are many reasons (just try talking to one), but I think the main one these days has got to be their ridiculous appearance.  Particularly their wardrobe.

I saw a runner the other day dressed in a way that initially made me concerned that he might be a recently escaped gimp/slave who had just barely evaded his captors.  He was wearing shoe-like foot coverings that no non-prisoner would ever chose for himself, with socks pulled all the way up to his knees.  So, already, from toe to knee, he was fairly obviously the victim of some sort of sadistic perversion.  Continuing up his fleeing body, he was clad in only frightfully revealing silky shorts that would make RuPaul blush and a child sized backpack of some sort which at first glance seemed to almost certainly be a restraint harness or constriction device.

A victim, he was, but not of another person.  He was his own victim, and that of the latest trends of runners to ensure that they not pass up an opportunity to annoy.

He was (and probably still IS) in urgent need of a very private elliptical machine and a trip to any number of clothing stores specializing in articles for socially-functioning human adults.

If you're going to run, please have some respect for yourself and at least have another runner chase you.  You could take turns ensuring that only one of you looks annoying at a time.

Oh yeah....and the magazines....you're RUNNING for crying out loud!!  Any publisher putting out more than one 2 page issue every 3 or 4 years is ripping you off.  Have some self respect.

Wally World, 238 style

South Belt Wal-Mart....

Ok, we all know that Wal-Marts are bad.  Not that the products or prices are necessarily bad.  But that the buildings themselves function as some sort of huge lights for the most socially disfigured of human moths.

I know that everyone probably thinks that they know of the worst Wal-Mart in the world too.  But most of you are wrong.  The worst one is without a doubt in St Joseph, MO.  A city recently found to be the 2nd unhappiest city in the country according to a Harvard study.  No joke.

St Joseph has 2 moth lights....one North and one South.  Each on either end of the single strip of commerce, the Belt, in a town who's relevance is founded on a criminal who was shot in the back and a famously failed courier service.

One need not look any further than the South Belt Wal-Mart to find where the 2nd unhappiest people in America stock up on their toilet paper, Tap Out shirts and various Duck Dynasty merchandise.

Even though I am long-since liberated of the cursed title of St Joseph resident, I do still find myself needing to stop at the SBWM from time to time after fooling myself into believing that the convenience will somehow be worth the risk of contracting Hepatitis type <fill in the blank>.  It's the only place where I never fail to check in on Facebook.  Not to brag, or to find friends, or for any social aspect whatsoever.  It's in order to provide a permanent digital record of my whereabouts in case they end up being of the "last known" variety.

It's a dangerous place for me for a multitude of reasons.  I have only one tattoo, for instance.  And it's not in a place which is readily visible nor is it of the howling wolf or Harley Davidsonal variety.  Where most other grocery stores (even Wal-Mart) have special lanes for a certain number of items in a cart or less, THIS nest of neanderthals actually has them set aside for 10 tattoos or more.

 I also know little to nothing of Honey Boo Boo which makes my inability to participate in check-out line small talk suspect.  I tried faking it once back when that little girl shaped glob of coagulated bacon grease and her family were all over mainstream media, but was soon exposed as an obvious fraud when I failed to end the required number sentences with "and shit".

Finally, I like laundered clothes.  I like storing them that way, and I like to wear them.  Even if it's sweats or old jeans shorts.  It's a dead giveaway at the South Belt Wal-Mart that I'm an out-of-towner...a stranger....an uppity Target shopping regular who probably eats organic anyway and couldn't tell Phil Robertson from Dale Jarrett.

And I have a theory that wearing laundered clothes in public makes you look happy, intentional or not.

Whatever the reasons, it's obvious that I don't belong there.  Actually, no one does.  Yet there they are...  Mouth-breathing their way around a bargain-filled, shallow gene pool....stress testing the stitching on undeserving yoga pants....catching one another up on the latest family meth convictions.

Check it out if you get a chance.  While you might not spend money shopping, I can pretty much guarantee that you'll feel like tipping the door greeter on the way out for a great show.

Scotch is awful

"It's an acquired taste"....

This statement is total bullshit and actually means that someone is forcing themselves to enjoy something that they know to be awful.

Exhibit A: Scotch.

I've traveled the world, to include many visits to Scotland.  With Scotch drinkers.  Ever met one who doesn't claim that it's an "acquired taste"?  Yeah....me either.

Liars.  Each and every one of them.

There's no way that people enjoy Scotch.

At best it tastes like the water pan drippings from a smoker that was used exclusively for the preparation of various animal rectums.  At it's worst, it tastes like the scorching residue left in one's throat if one were to actually try and ingest slow-smoked various animal rectums.

I once drank Tiki-torch fuel on a dare while I was drunk.  INFINITELY smoother and more delicious than the "best" Scotch I've ever had the misfortune to be convinced to sample.  And wildly more affordable!!!

So, for all of the Scotch drinkers out there, I simply HAVE to recommend you try Tiki-torch fuel.  If you're truly drinking Scotch for the flavor, I can guarantee you're going to love the mosquito-repelling alternative.  If not at first, then eventually.  After all, it might be an acquired taste.

If you absolutely must have Scotch though, I've discovered the perfect way to serve Scotch and water.  Start with a freezer-chilled pint glass.  Pour your Scotch of choice very slowly into the glass, filling absolutely to the brim.  It's important to get just as much Scotch as possible into the glass.  Once the glass is full, carefully pour the Scotch out onto the ground or into the sink.  Anywhere will do, really.  Before any residue has a chance to dry in the glass, thoroughly rinse it out with the water you had standing by.  Fill the glass with anything else and enjoy.

Incidentally, the same recipe works just as effectively for American light beers as well.  You know...any of them that need a bottle design or color change label etc in order to aid their flavor.

Cheers!