Wednesday, November 19, 2014


I remember being in a hotel restaurant in San Diego for the breakfast buffet. My phone rang. It was a girl I knew. I got to talking, with her on the speaker, and were yackkin' it up like you wouldn't believe, and you know I got no inside voice, and I'm talking about how great it is to be a Texan, and how the California girls cant get enough of me and my accent, and I look over all the way across the dining room, and there's some woman looking right at me, and I can tell she has heard everything i just said, just as if i was sitting right there at the table with her; and she looks at me right in the eye, glaring at me is what she's doing, and sticks her finger down her throat, then mouths the words "Gag Me".
Gag me. Darn right.

Tuesday, November 18, 2014


My first snockering was with dads Cutty Sark. 

Susan Peebles spent the night with my sister. I drank a 6 oz glass just straight up out of
the bottle, no ice, nada. I have vague recollections of being placed in the shower, and laughing my ass off, then waking up the next morning, smelling like whiskey and Herbal Essence shampoo, covered in coffee grounds with an invisible railroad spike sticking out the front of my head.
The coffee grounds were from my sisters feeble attempt to make coffee.
The railroad spike, I guess we've all had that one.
Took about 4 days to get over it, and I still cant handle the smell of whiskey.
In fact, just looking at the label makes my head swim.

Monday, November 17, 2014


I took a buddy in to the VA a few weeks ago. Babalougats.
He was a good friend many years ago, and a babe magnet. 
He's not in the best of shape; 3 heart operations and no teeth. But to say his flower has faded would be a mistake. He is as bright and funny and charming as ever. 
He lives in one of those bedbug motels in Arlington. The first time I went to see him, and saw all those oxygen tanks lined up across the back wall, man it shook me. I started going every couple weeks to take him for breakfast. He is great company. The banter is non-stop between he and I.

Any way, I took him to the VA for a check-up. 
He comes back out to after the exam; his eyes are wide open. He looks like a cartoon character that just got hit with a frying pan.
“They want to admit me. My kidneys are shutting down”

He’s been in for about 10 days now. They have drained 60 pounds of fluids from him and got his heart rate to where it should be. It was at 140 when I took him in.
While he was in he didn’t want to tell his mom. Didn’t want to worry her. She’s been sick.
Then he got the call two days ago. His mom had passed.

You know, its funny. The strangeness and timing of this life just can't be measured
I said to him “Well, at least you didn’t have to put yourself through all that”.
He said “I was thinking the same thing”.

I visited Bubba at the hospital last week. We told the nurse I was his brother. Relatives only in ICU.
She said “You guys look so much alike”
Bubba says “He was always the pretty one”
I said “Yeah, but Bubba got all the girls”
Bubbas says “Yes. I was like Catnip”

Catnip. LMAO. I been using that one.
Fuckin’ Bubba.

There are some really cheap apartments across the street from mine. I talked to him last night about moving in to those when he gets out.
“ I don’t have any furniture” he says.
“Oh hell, Bubba, we’ll get you some furniture. People give it away all the time. I gave away a bed just last month”

I’m hoping he’ll go for it.

Thursday, November 13, 2014


"...I'd better not be too explicit. My night is careless
with itself, troublesome as a woman wearing no bra
in winter. I believe everything is a metaphor for sex...
Sometimes I play a game in which my primitive craft fires
upon an alien ship whose intention is the destruction
of the earth. Other times I fall in love with a word
like somberness. Or moonlight juicing naked branches.
All species have a notion of emptiness, and yet
the flowers don't quit opening…
Ask a glass of water why it pities
the rain. Ask the lunatic yard dog why it tolerates the leash.
Brothers and sisters, when you spend your nights
out on a limb, there's a chance you'll fall in your sleep."
- Terrance Hayes,

Wednesday, November 12, 2014


I started out in food service and worked my way up. As I worked my way up, I worked with a lot of people that didn't want to be a chef, or a general manager. They just wanted to be a line cook, or a prep lady. They stayed very close to minimum wage; their increases came from doing a good job and longevity, not from following what some might call the "American Dream". Their American Dream was to come to work and do a good job and not be screwed. They wanted a clean place, out of the weather to work. They wanted to supplement the household income so their daughter could have a flute, or maybe got to college. They didn't want to get rich or be the boss, they just wanted to get a sqaure deal.
They were the salt of the earth and I admire them for it.

Back then my first job I made 1.65 an hour. No one was going to pretend I could have a place of my own, or that I earned a "living wage" @ 1.65. I think when I moved out of my parents house and in with a room mate I was making 2.25 an hour, and minimum wasnt 1.65, it was more like 1.95.
From what I understand, 1.65 is the equivalent of somewhere around 9.50 in today's money. All things being equal, that is where much of the inequality comes from.

I think I was making 2.50 an hour when I got my evaluation. I had worked there for a year, seen probably 25 cents in increases that year. They gave me a 15 cent raise. I told the manager that wasn’t going to keep me…that I thought I was worth more than that. He said “OK, fine, we will re-evaluate the next two weeks”.
The next day, the #1 cook in the kitchen quit. For the next two weeks I did my job and his. Worked a couple 80 hour weeks.
When I sat down with the manager after two weeks, I was grinning like a butchers dog.
"I think we were discussing how much I'm worth around here" I said
I’ll never forget the look on his face.
“Well, you have certainly done an outstanding job” he says.
When I left the table I was making 3.15 an hour.
Life was good.

Years later, during an interview for Chef’s position I was asked:
“What is more important? Your employee’s or the business?”
At the time it seemed a difficult question. I don’t exactly remember my answer, but I did get the job.
Over the years I have come to believe that there may have been several good answers but there was really only one wrong answer.
That the business is more important than my employees.
You might disagree.

Maybe if we had left minimum wage at 1.65 an hour, butter would still be $.55 a pound.

Tuesday, November 11, 2014


My dad served in North Africa as a mechanic working on the B-26’s that provided air cover for Patton.
His duties also included recovering downed aircraft. They found a German ME-109 (Messerschmidt) that went down with a mechanical problem but was fairly intact. They borrowed whatever parts they needed from other Messerschmitts they had recovered and managed to restore the thing to a flyable condition. In order to avoid unwanted attention from the AA gunners, they painted the plane bright orange. Everyone knew not to shoot at the bright orange ME-109 because that was our own boys having some fun in their free time. Well, the Krauts found out about this plane and one day an orange ME-109 flew in and bombed their camp.

And that was the end of that.

Wednesday, November 05, 2014


After about our 6th camping trip the Ex-Mrs bulletholes asked for a tent she could stand up in. I’m like “What?” but went ahead and got one.

Then after a few trips she asked if we could get one that had a floor.
I’m like “What?” but went ahead and got one.
Then about 6 trips in the stand up tent with a floor she asked “Do you think we could get a cabin one time?” and I’m like “What?”, but we never did.
And now she’s my ex.


Monday, October 27, 2014


Yesterday we talked about the latest cancer term: “Previvor”.
We are seeing the first generation of Previvors, people who find through genetic testing a high likelihood for a cancer.
Angelina Jolie may be the face to associate with that. Considered one of the most beautiful women in the world, Angelina discovered through genetic testing that she had an 80% chance of developing a breast cancer.
She had a double mastectomy before that could happen.

But genetic testing is not just for famous movie stars.

Joyce Walmer had lost her father and uncle to Thyroid cancer. She was diagnosed with it herself at 15.
There was a 50% chance that the gene would be passed down to one of her three children. The gene, MEN2A, guarantees you will develop thyroid cancer.
The results confirmed what Walmer had feared: Each of her children carried MEN2A, and would eventually develop thyroid cancer. So, their thyroids were removed.

Clearly, genetics are going to be more and more important in the journey to save lives and mitigate cancers.
Testing is commonly covered by health insurance and public healthcare programs for people at high risk for having a mutation, and not covered for people at low risk. The purpose of limiting the testing to high-risk people is to increase the likelihood that the person will receive a meaningful, actionable result from the test, rather than identifying a variant of unknown significance.

Sunday, October 19, 2014


Remember the Georgia Satellites and their big hit "Don't Give Me No Lines And Keep Your Hands To Yourself"??
They have a greatest Hits album. 
Guess how many songs are on it?

Twenty songs, all hits. 
What makes that even more impressive than that is that the Satellites managed to glean 20 hits off of only 3 original albums.
But wait!
Even more impressive than that is the fact that from those 3 original albums they managed to produce four (4) Greatest Hits albums!
But the capper is that one of those greatest hits albums, the “Essential” Georgia Satellites, doesn’t even have “Keep Your Hands to Yourself” on it! 
And guess how much THAT one goes for?
60 bucks! 
For 60 bucks you get a greatest hits album that doesn’t even have, you know, a greatest hit on it! That is some slick-ass kind of marketing!

Saturday, October 18, 2014


What I learned at MD Anderson Cancer Awareness Seminar in Houston:
A person becomes a survivor at the time of diagnosis. Their healthy friends and family members are also survivors.
If you have Cancer, and you woke up this morning, you are a survivor.
One in 30 people are either currently undergoing treatment for cancer or have done so in the past.

And there is a new term floating about; the Previvor.
This is the first generation in human history who, armed with information about a predisposition to a cancer after opting into DNA testing, can make informed choices prior to cancer diagnosis. The typical previvor has tested positive for a BRCA mutation and learned that she is at high risk for developing breast cancer and ovarian cancer, and is attempting to manage that risk through a combination of increased surveillance through mammograms, breast MRIs, pelvic ultrasounds, oophorectomy,bilateral mastectomy, and other medical procedures.