Scheiss Meister

Merry Christmas all you bums, jerks, dicks, and assholes. And, yeah, you regular people too, I suppose. Hook 'em!

Too bad Hill Country Ag doesn't know how to spell institutions like graduates of institutions of higher learning do.

If you were in college it would make you the big man on campus, for sure.

I can't tell you what it is, but both of my shoulders now hurt after reading that. I hope it's not too bad. You're a bloody wanker is what it means. ETA - I hope it's not serious and clears up on it's own.

So which aggy grad works at UT and would have access to athletes' grades? I couldn't get my daughter's grades from UT and this asshat has seen Murphy's? I get that he could have just made that up, but it reads to me like he realized that he had posted something that he shouldn't have and was trying to walk it back. If I had the skills I would track down He Gotta Touchdown's identity and see if he violated any laws or terms of employment there. And lol that a 4.0 at UT wouldn't get him into Duke. He's a deluded moron. Reminds me of a woman who told me that her son was accepted at Stanford's and MIT's engineering programs, but couldn't get into aggy so he was starting at Blinn. (Unbelievable, I know, but absolutely what she said.) They have no sense of their academic place in relation to any other schools, nor the academic places of other schools generally.

My grandfather on my mom's side was gassed badly in WW I. By the late thirties/early forties the heart and lung complications eventually kept him from working. To survive my grandmother kept a milk cow and raised a calf every year and had a year-round garden. She would also kill a wild hog or two in the winter for meat. To get money for clothes and food that they couldn't raise, my 8 year-old mom and her 4 year-old brother ran a trap line in the Big Thicket near Evadale. They checked it daily, skinning out the nutria and such that they caught. She said that a bobcat or coyote were occasional jackpots, as those pelts brought more money. The real jackpot was a river otter they once caught. She had a .22 that she would shoot rabits and squirrels with, as well as dispatching trapped animals that were still alive, and that was all she had to defend them if a critter came after them. Their clothes were largely made of flour sacks. My dad's family wasn't quite as poor, but they hurt some, too. My dad lost an eye because they couldn't afford a doctor to remove some metal from his eye and it got infected. He told us that the worst punishment he ever got was for losing their sugar ration book at the beginning of a month in 1943. My mom made sure that my brothers and I were able to fish, forage, garden, cook, can, clean, sew, and take care of ourselves. She and my dad also made sure that, while we were never rolling in money, we never knew abject poverty.

Capital offense, if you ask me.

Working night shift at my first wastewater gig, I could go up on the roof and do some stargazing during my meal break. A coworker from the day shift saw my star atlas at shift change and asked if I had sent them my address to the publisher of the atlas. I asked why I would do that and he said so that they can let you know which stars fell after a meteor shower. Rendered me entirely speechless for a minute. There were other examples of his ignorance and stupidity, such as when he took a gun to go talk to his soon to be ex-wife in violation of a restraining order, then telling the responding cop that he took the gun to shoot her if she didn't agree to reconcile. I honestly don't know how he remembered to breathe.

Lol, no.

I worked hanging overhead garage doors the summer before my senior year in high school. Mostly not too bad, but I was the one who was sent up in the attic of new homes to pull the wire for motorized door openers. Unfinished attics in July and August in Texas can get to 160° F, and I came close to heat exhaustion more than once. We once got an order for a couple dozen doors, and I got to be the one in the workshop moving the panels around by hand, drilling and cutting for hardware, and bolting on said hardware. That shed was damn hot, too. Reading water meters in January is only marginally more comfortable that reading them in July and August. Hot, cold, wet, you have to get them read on time. You learn how to handle people and dogs real fast. I had to change out a meter for a pharmacy once. The meter was about 80 years old and not reading correctly, so the pharmacy was being way under billed. I let the lady at the counter know that I was turning off the water to change the meter and that the water would be off for 5 to 15 minutes. As I reached to turn off the water the owner of the pharmacy comes screaming out of the door pointing a pistol at me, promising to shoot the shit out of me if I touched that meter. I backed off and called it in. Later that afternoon I was there with the Assistant Chief of Police and an officer who stood overwatch while I changed the meter. That was a pretty fucked up day.

And it's always a 10mm socket. Or if you're a real old, 1/2" socket. When I buy a socket set, for me or others, I always get one each extra 10mm and 1/2" sockets. They still disappear, but it takes twice as long to get to the point of having none.

Today is graduation for aggy. This weekend Colley Station will be busier than when Alabama plays them at Kyle tacklebox. Every restaurant will be overcrowded. If rooms were booked, they were booked months ago, and at sky high prices. It's difficult to get around town, and doubly so around campus. This isn't the weekend I'd pick to get a big group of recruits on campus.

Yep, sure did. It looks like a clean, well run plant from the outside. I wish that I'd had time for a tour.

My wife and I were visiting our daughter (no pics of either one, assholes) in Eugene and drove over to Florence for a day. That park is nice, but two things should be noted here: 1) It isn't at the site of the explosion, but about a half mile away across the dunes and the Siuslaw River, and 2) It's next door to the Florence wastewater treatment plant. There were no odors from the plant, but some from the rotting vegetation and sea life along the river. I think that the smiling whale on the sign is a nice, whimsical touch.

Doomlet didn't fall far from the tree, I see.

I believe that it was Lily Tomlin who observed that if you talk to God, that's praying, but if God talks to you, that's schizophrenia.

I guess that's why it's called tissue.

I apparently just start to bleed spontaneously now. My wife just asked me what I did to my arm and points out a small trickle of dried blood. It's obviously been dry for some time, but damned if I know what I did to open up the small laceration from which it proceeds. I don't remember any bumps or scrapes.

Mix 1/3 cup of brown sugar, two tablespoons of balsamic vinegar, two tablespoons of soy sauce, one teaspoon of minced garlic, 1/2 teaspoon of red pepper flakes, and 1/2 teaspoon of paprika in a bowl. On pork, it's a delicious glaze. Knock the bowl off of the counter and it becomes very fragrant glue. Son of a bitch, what a mess.

I used to work with a gal who had that and plushes of E. coli, Salmonella, and an amoeba for tours of our wastewater plant. They were a huge hit with kids.

Hang in there, brother. Find an aggy coworker and brighten his day with reminders of how great the weekend was. It will help you over the hump.

A troglodyte, a nazi, and the Creature From The Black Lagoon walk into a bar...

That looks like something from a Monty Python skit, with a dummy flying through the air.

I hope she kicks cancer's ass and Texas kicks Oklahoma State's.

From drippy, damp Nastysota... FIGHT!!!