Welcome Piper.
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Hello, my droogies!

There is yet another addition to the Baxivanos/Edgar family in the feline realm and what a story there is to be told. Not too many months ago we adopted little Nigel from the Hotel for Cats and Dogs here in Pensacola. He was found in a box on the corner of Davis Highway and Olive Rd. There was naught in the box save for some wet food that had dried into crumbles. This is July in Pensacola, mind you. Think: Phoenix, AZ with a meelion percent humidity. Poor little guy is lucky to have made it, but he did. And the minute Athena took him from the secret cage room of quarantine he was all over her, eating her up and she him. So, there is that story as I have already told. But now… but NOW there is PIPER!

Piper made news in Baltimore after being spotted by a passerby being beaten by two teens with sticks and brought to BARC, a local rescue. Her leg was broken and she needed surgery. We have our own theories as to why she was in the predicament she was in. It could have been it was her owner that found her and decided not to suffer the wrath of others by admitting that he let the kitten escape and get beaten. Hard to say. Doesn’t matter, eh… Athena adopted her and brought her home, shaved leg and all. According to Athena, Piper (our name for her – the shelter named her Marilyn, as in Maryland?) is the most rambunctious and lovable kitten ever. She jumps all over the place, broken leg and all. Well, it has a rod in it now. So, I want to introduce our new girl, Piper. Say hi, Piper! SAYYYY ITTT!!! Kudos to my soon to be wife for rescuing another kitty cat in distress. She apparently loves to stick her tongue out, as you can see. Piper, not Athena, though Athena sticks her tongue out as well when she feels the need.

Here is a link to her story: HER STORY

When I get up to Maryland with Nigel and the rest of the menagerie, it will be interesting times indeed. :)

I have a huge list of stuff to post to the news here cause I think… well, I think a lot, and I can’t fill up your minds with useless garbage. But here is a good one.

I call it… Six Degrees Of Barack Obama. We have all heard of the Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon Game, yes? Of course we have. That is like… soooooo last millenium. Anyway, I posit the next incarnation: SDOBO! And I have to say with a little bit of artistic license that I am only ONE FUCKING DEGREE away. How so, Jim, HOW SO?

Let me tell you, oh my lovelies! Back in the mid nineties, Strabo and I (I can’t give away his real name or he will kill me, but anyone who visits the forums knows him) had season tickets for the Seattle Mariners. Ahhh, what a waste of money. OR WAS IT? Sure Seattle sucked for years and we spent thousands of dollars a year for the privilege of watching them suck away. But hey, Ken Griffey Jr. and Edgar Martinez and A-Rod (before steroids). You gotta love these guys, as the motto went. So, Strabo and I used to go the Kingdome for almost every home game and drink crappy whiskey and smoke cigarettes while our team toiled to make the last place slot in the AL West. Many years were spent at the Kingdome before it was blowed up!

We then moved over to the Safeco Field when the Kingdome got blowed up. As season ticket holders, we had first dibs on great season seats and tickets for the inaugural game, July 15, 1999, attended by ~47000 folks. I still have the ticket. Lifelong and recently departed broadcaster Dave Niehaus threw the first pitch in the new stadium. I remember this brightly because there was a big mystery around who was going to throw the first pitch. Usually you would have some political figure or local baseball great come out and make the big pitch. This is not a small thing, mind you. It is not every day much less every year that a MLB stadium opens to the public, having only thirty-something stadia in the country. As I recall, everyone, both teams, were down on the field waiting… and Dave is called to the mound in his tux and man was that something! Dave was crying, the fans were crying, it was quite a moment. Here is our announcer who faithfully sat in the box for twenty-two years, since the inception in 1977 of the Mariners, through thick and thin, calling every play for the worst team in history. Fucking awesome. Anyway, that game was rolling along great for us, beating the San Diego Padres until the evil that is Jose Mesa came in as a saver and BLEW the god-blessed game for us. Yeah, well where is HE now? Exactly.

Dave Niehaus passed away Nov 10, 2010, from a heart attack during a bbq at his home in Bellevue, WA. Dave, us Mariners fans thank you for three decades of service to the Northwest. If you are in heaven, please say hi to Jackie Robinson for us. If you are in hell, say hi to Babe Ruth. I remember sitting in a bar in Chico, CA, watching the one-game playoff between the then California Angels and the Seattle Mariners that had fought so valiantly down the stretch to come back fifteen games down. 1995, what a season, and the only feed we had in the bar was from Seattle, and I was the only Seattle fan present. Dave called the game and we won 9-1 and I snuck out the back door.

MY oh MY, Dave, MY oh MY. You will be missed my friend.

So, there we are, Strabo and I, at the first ever game in Safeco Field, drinking the beers and being the fans we always were. Woo hoo and all that shit. We run out of beer and go to get more and I stumble about and bump into this little Chinese guy and almost spill what is left of my swill all over him and his nice suit. Then I recognize him and stumble over my apology, "I am so sorry, Governor Locke, my bad, etc." He is gracious and smiles and goes back to getting his own beer. Our Washington state governor, Gary Locke, almost gets my beer all over him. And that was just the first time I had a run-in with him at a Mariners’ game. Being that our seats were right behind home plate, I saw him a few times, sitting right in front of me, almost spilling beer upon him again. So, there is my 1 degree of Barack Obama. My Governor was brought on to the Obama administration as the Commerce Secretary and now he is going to be the U.S. Ambassador to China. Go Gary! I really like the guy as a politician and even more so as a Mariners fan!

Personally, and I can say this without being browbeaten I hope, I would like to see him run for President in 2016. He is a smart guy and being the first ever Chinese-American Governor, and the Governor of a Pacific Rim state, he might be able to put Taiwan in their place, wherever that may be.

One more thing before I go: welcome home for the last time Space Shuttle Discovery!! Only two launches left. Sort of sad, I think. I have been alive for all the launches and two of the failures. The shuttle program has been the most successful of any space program in the short history of such Endeavors. (no pun) Godspeed and safe returns to the next two missions. On Feb 1, 2003 I posted a news entry about the destruction of the Columbia that was, with all blessings, passed along to the families of the astronauts that died that day. Don’t ask me how that happened, but one of our fans was related to one of the pilots. From Apollo-1 to STS-107, I pray that we never lose another person in our quest to explore our universe.

Hello cat-worshippers in Egypt.
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The trouble in Egypt – a parody.

When things started looking bad for the President of Egypt seventeen days ago, I felt obliged to give my old buddy a call and see how he was doing. I held off. My thoughts were that the populace of Cairo, which is only a fraction of the entirety of the country, would take a collective chill pill and return to the huts from whence they erupted… play some backgammon or something.

It was not to be. Some demonic cabal was at work… of this I had no doubt. The air would be thick with their unseen tendrils, filtering throughout the city, entering sacred sleeping chabmers, lashing at their unwitting inhabitants and corrupting their minds.

During the last few days, I saw that my concerns were well-founded. Driven by Facebook – created by well-known Zionist Mark Zuckerberg – the crowds reappeared, as a multi-headed beast intent on the destruction of its own lair, its soul black and crusted from the residence of evil inside. I knew it was time for me to make the call. I told my buddy I would only post this transcript after such time that he would not be in office anymore. "Why add the insult to the injury?" he said.

Me: Hosni please. (waiting) Hosni, please. (waiting) Yes, tell him it is Jim, President of MyCatHatesYou. (some beeping like the call is being recorded)

Hosni: Jeem.(as he likes to call me) Jeem, I am not knowing what to be saying.

Me: Hosni, my friend. I have been watching the television and…

Hosni: But not… the satellite television?

Me: Huh? Oh, no. No, of course not. I have the cable television.

Hosni: Jeem, the satellite television is the television of infidel. You understand, yes?

Me: Of course I do, Hosni-dah. (That was sort of my name of respect for him. Like I called my grandfather Grand-pappy-Joe) The satellite television brings turmoil to your country.

Hosni: (sounding forlorn) Oh, Jeem, no idea you have. Is sheet! Very much sheet. I am too old to be beaten about my face, head, and neck areas. Last week I had a fart I thought would take my ass with it!

Me: What are you planing to do? It is looking crazy out there. You have some money?

Hosni: Well, you know Jeem. I have a lot of money I have stolen from the banks, so I don’t need Egypt-Care. My health is guaranteed by Allah and gold. ‘Nuff said.

Me: Do you still have your property in Sharm el-Sheikh?

Hosni: Of course! Do you think I have the brain of a camel?

Me: Maybe it would be good to take a vacation there for… the rest of your life. You have money, a million people are in the streets of Cairo and they seem to want you gone. Thirty years is a long time my old friend. I think you should leave and retire in style.

Hosni: (sighing) Yes, Jeem, my old friend. I have many monies in my Swiss accounts. Perhaps I will leave my country to their own, how do you say, devices.

Me: Hosni, have you thought about building another pyramid for your grave, should you ever die? Maybe put your face on the top with a large light that shines across all of Egypt.

Hosni: Because I am a Pharoah, of course I will have a pyramid. With solar power and baseboard heat. Do you know a good contractor?

Me: I will send you an email, Hosni-dah. Take my advice and get a good tan at Sharm el-Sheikh.

Hosni: I have to say, my friend, the Internets is a crazy place. I had Facebook and only had 4 friends. Not even my children. Some guys from Kentucky of your country. Now I have to go and eat some dates, fava beans, eggplants, lentils, and shawerma. And beer, of course.

Me: Good luck Hosni-dah. If I do not talk to you soon, please be careful.

Hosni: Of course. Allahu Akbar my friend and I will talk with you in the next life perhaps!

Me: Goodbye, Hosni.

Hosni: (sounding restrained) Let the fuck go of me! I am Pharoah of Egypt. (tussling in the background) What you are to putting a needle in my neck? GAH! Okay, I need lentil. Momma!

That is the transcript of my last call to Hosni Mubarek. I call his cellphone now and all I get is a recording in Arabic that says something like, "(beep… BeeP… BEEP!) Due to the revolution in our area, the dictator you are calling can not be reached at this time."

I hope Hosni-dah is doing okay. But I have to say at this moment that due to the Facebook, the Twitter, and of course, the MyCatHatesYou, Egypt is now free of their dictator government and is now under the control of the military which, being conscripted, probably do not want to massacre their own families and such. In America we have no problem with that. (see: Kent State, Berkeley, etc)

The trouble in Egypt – for real.

In all seriousness, which we are not well-known for, it is quite a monumentous day in Egypt, and very much so, the world. I am 41 years old and besides the fall of the Berlin Wall – which was symbolic of Communism, but was not Communism itself – this is the craziest shit I have ever seen. Without replaying all the punditry of the last 18 days, it is imperative to give credit to the Egyptian people for changing their country almost overnight. One thing I have not heard, from anyone, is the name M.K. Gandhi. There are parallels between the events of 65 years ago and the events of the last couple of weeks. Non-violence, strikes, relatively few lives lost, a great nation proclaiming their independence from tyranny.

We wish the best for the people of Egypt and pray to all the ancient gods that they are able to bring about a great democracy in the Middle East. It can be done and Allah willing, hopefully it will be done. What many are calling the largest Islamic nation has a long road ahead of it, but this is not unprecedented in the history of our planet. At the same time, the situation reminds us of the proverbial babe in the woods. A country that has been abused by native and non-native regimes, it is their time to shine and carefully script their future. And right now, there is really no one in charge, we know that, no news there. It reminds me of the time Compuserve was bought by AOL. The only thing that was sure for me was my paycheck and that was not even guaranteed. Good luck, oh my brothers in the Middle East! I still want to see your country. And don’t fuck Israel up too much, huh?

This may be a stretch to say, but as Jesus said, "The geeks will inherit the earth." Okay, he didn’t really say that, but I have to give a shout out the my fellow geeks that fostered change in Egypt. The Google executive, Wael Ghonim, who was imprisoned for 10 days, blindfolded, and set up a Facebook page to organize the protests, has been queried for a leadership, even Presidency, role in Egypt. He says no, but imagine getting back to work at Google. Just another day in the office. Without Facebook, Google, and Twitter, the revolution we have witnessed in real-time may not have been possible. It is such a different paradigm to revolutions past. No blood, no Generals, no armies; simply people armed with information, passion, and cellphones. Who would have ever thought?

Now, more hilarity!

I hope you will enjoy these Biblical parodies. It is all I have to offer at this moment.

There ya go! And never let us forget the great Tony Millionaire’s MAAKIES strip:

Need more cats!

I need a lot more cats. I lost one of my hard drives and need hi-res large images of your cats for a few books I be werkin’ on. Rock on, honkies! (and non-honkies)

Go to the CONTACT link on the main page and send me the goods. You know you got ‘em… don’t hold back. I know people in the KGB.

What be up these days.
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News from the Gulf

Firstly, there are some belated announcements to be given out.

  • Happy tenth birthday to MyCatHatesYou dot com (Dec 10th, 2010). We were inarguably the first mainstream feline humor website to grace the internet back in the day when people were still trying to secure their corner of GeoCities to put up pictures of their vacation to Detroit to impress their friends in Cincinnati. Being the obvious inspiration for I Can Haz Cheeseburgers (which to this day still makes no sense to us), Stuff on My Cat, the short-lived My Cat Loves You, and StinkyLitterboxes.com – which has YET to get off the ground – is humbling to our core. Three books have been published from our content, each having a unique take on our concept. Our kitties have been used for commercial advertisements, rave posters, promotional items, album covers, PowerPoint presentations around the world, and more. Can it get more humbling? Yes, it can! While watching Animal Hoarders the other day, Athena and I spotted a Bad Cat wall calendar hanging in this woman’s bedroom, along with sixty something cats – the cat’s weren’t hanging , the calendar was. No lie, they showed it a few times. I hope there is no such thing as bad publicity.
  • Athena and I are officialy engaged to be married, as of Dec 24th. She accepted my proposal and has since since fled to Baltimore, or so says the private investigator I hired to track her down. Don’t worry friends, she will be followed by myself as soon as I wrap up some stuff down here in Fla. It is true that this area of the Gulf is the best, for many reasons, but not for the employment scene. Not much hiring going on for skilled jobs. The service industry, yes, but even that is a tough nut to crack as it is seasonal and workers from last season have pereference. Anyway, more news about the fiance and I to come, once my detective locates her!
  • Happy Birthday to The Jeez (Dec 25).

  • Happy New Year’s to all y’all! It should be a great year for those of us who are not the following:
    • The Pittsburgh Steelers
    • sex offender Ben Roethlisberger
    • the Tunisian President
    • Egyptians in general
    • American Congresswomen or their aides or nine-year-old girls or Federal Judges
    • Jack LaLanne
    • Pete Postlethwaite
    • Rush Limbaugh’s heart and circulatory system.
    • Future NASA Mars rovers.
    • Tom Cavanagh
    • Eunice Sanborn (world’s oldest living person)
    • Uga VIII (U of Georgia mascot bulldog)
    • Anybody on Death Row.

During a bout of ephemeral solemnness, MCHY condemned, within the first hour, the murders of the Tuscon Six and the wounding of Rep. Gabrielle Giffords and many others. Many tears were shed here in Gulf Breeze as the events of that morning were explicated throughout the day. We tend to agree with the President’s words at the memorial. Even though we at MCHY are so far to the left you would expect to find us floating in the Pacific Ocean (stage left, facing North, of course), we believe hateful rhetoric needs to stop. Inciting mentally deficient humans to commit cardinal sins is not honorable, no matter from whence it is instigated. Unless it comes from our cats; that is an acceptable form of free speech. I can’t say too much more lest I receive a rash of hate mail from the right-wingers who love threatening me to not get into politics, lest they stop coming to our site. Which of course would do about as much good as the boycott of British Petroleum of last summer. I digress…

Following MCHY protocol, I did not get all the cats up that I promised to get up last month, or November, or whenever it was. They are still sitting around here waiting to be posted. Should get to that tonight. Please remember I need LOTS of cats, LOTS AND LOTS of thems! I am working on a few projects right now that require many good cat pics. Send ‘em in, honkies!

Ah… the Super Bowl, or as Athena called it, the Super Bowel, which I thought was hilarious. Anything related to Ben Roethlisberger makes me think of bowels, which reminds me of a joke I heard when I was eight years young. It goes like this:

Childhood

The U.S. Army is being diligent in its eradication of the indigenous population of the Plains Territories. It comes across a small camp of Injuns that have not left yet, but may still be massacred. The Army Captain goes to a nearby brave and asks why. He says to see Chief Bowels in the big teepee down the way. The Captain opens the teepee and says to the Chief, "You gotta go redskin, paleface is here to fuck your shit up." The Chief says to the Captain, "Chief Bowels not move!" The Captain thinks about it and leaves. He comes back that day with some laxative tea, which he gives to the Chief. "Take this," he says. I will be back tomorrow. The next day the Captain comes back and upon opening the teepee door, hears, "Chief Bowels not move!" The Captain leaves and returns with more tea. This happens for three days, and finally the Captain comes to the teepee and smells a foul stench. He opens the door and hears, "Bowels move NOW! Teepee full of shit!"

It is amazing what kids find funny, isn’t it? I have a friend from my school years who appeared in a very violent dream of mine the other night. He was the leader of a sort of band of meth-heads that arrived on a bus to our condo and tried to fuck over us. Since I own and use firearms in real life, they tend to leak over into my dreams. In this dream, I had to pull out my Glock 9mm and Athena’s Ruger .357 and blast some of these toothless bastardos away to a tertiary dimension (those kinds of things exist in my dreams), which was more gory in the sleep-state than it would be in the waking hours. In real life, people’s heads don’t explode like an A-Bomb when hit with a medium-caliber bullet. Odd how that happens. Oh, yeah, for those of you who have told me that a 9mm round is not very powerful and doesn’t have stopping power, talk to the nineteen people shot and murdered in Tuscon about that. They were all shot with a Glock 9mm, probably hollowpoints, sure, but that round will kill you. It is an approved NATO round, isn’t it!? 9mm Parabellum!? The standard UZI chambering!? Idiots. Anyway, my childhood friend, Corey Schmidt, used to burp the whole alphabet. How cool is that to a thirteen year-old? The kewlest, brah! Fucking childhood, what are you going to do?

The Super Bowl

So, last night I had the privilege of watching the Packers of the Bay of Green show Ben Roethlisberger that he should have stuck to sexually assaulting women and not try to mess with men. There will always be the folk songs sung about a defensive return for a TD and the missed field goal that would have made a difference and the pass intereference that should have been called on the last possession of the game for the Stealers. To all that shit, I say, remember SB XL? The non-Seattle-touchdown that was? The penalties on the Seahawks that weren’t? So, Pittsburgh can take a big collective sigh, relax, bend over and STFU. The Packers are on their way up there to… well… PACK IT!

It was a great game in that it was a blowout, then a comeback, then a… wait, what?… yeah, a comeback that reminds one of… what is the term? whiskey-dick! That perennial affliction where one does not quite rise to the occasion, which describes the Stealers to a tee. The moniker "Big Ben" Roethlisberger will need a bit revamping. Seeing him ramble in the post-game interview reminded me of our BMW mechanic explaining how the entirety of Israel worships Satan, seriously.

His reply should be simply, "I apologize to the entire city of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, for the fact that I suck and have to rely on everyone else to make me look good, or, as in this case, not very good. As much as I did not want to admit this, I like to throw interceptions that get converted eventually to touchdowns. The three-year-old lock of Polamalu’s hair that I keep tucked into my jock strap is not, as I was initially told, a good luck charm. In fact, it itches me and may have caused the rash that has been the bane of my existence for so long. I like to argue with refs and generally make my own calls on plays, but only if it benefits me. I am larger than I should be due to a genetic anomaly caused by a case of inbreeding in my family two generations previous. That is a big word for me, inbreeding. I found it on a birthday card from my grandmother/great-aunt. There was a two-dollar bill in the card as well. Thanks grandma/great-aunt! I love two-dollar bills! Sorry, Pittsburgh, but I make more than 99% of you."

Kudos to my boy, Aaron Rodgers. Finally, a professional athlete that studied at the same college I have. In this case it is Butte Community College, Chico, CA. I studied Mayan Mathematics and Advanced Astronomy and of course, Theater. I am pretty sure he studied Football and Beer, which is an actual class there, trust me. The Mayor and the rest of the city hangs out in Duffy’s Irish Pub. They are probably all grads, too! GO Aaron!

The Rest

So, things are rolling along here in Lower Alabama. I have some projects in the works. Keeping sane best I can. Our little monster Nigel is making life interesting. I will get some pics of him. As for the pics of the crab pics I was going to post… the season got thin and we have not been crabbing for awhile. But I will say it is completely amazing, as most you know, to go out and get your own food, as we did from our garden in Seattle.

This is random, but very strange. I was in a public restroom recently and the stall for pooping had one of those baby changing station embedded with Braille instructions. I have to wonder the following; a man goes into the stall with a baby in his hand. He is blind and maybe doesn’t even know where he is. He gets to the stall, cracks his shin on the porcelain toilet bowl, hopefully doesn’t drop the infant into the blue water swirling within, and finds the baby thingy bolted the wall. He feels around with one hand while the other holds his only heir. He reads the words and finds the latch and drops the table out. He feels around and puts the kid on the cold plastic table. While holding it in place, he fishes in his man-purse for a new diaper. Finding the new diaper, he begins the task of removing the soiled diaper with two hands while holding the clean one in his teeth. Unable to see, we hope he does not put his hand into the fresh pile of poop left by his son or daughter. Imagine the scene if you will; unable to see, this person is having to maneuver the stink-pile of an infant, apply wipes to clean off any remaing poopy residue, deposit these remnants into a receptacle (which was not marked in Braille), put on some talcum powder, and apply a new diaper. Then he puts everything back into place, avoids the porcelain bowl again – his shin is still smarting – and grabs the kid and leaves, using his cane to find his way back to the table to finish his steak without stabbing his hand in the process. I dunno, sort of weird.

Factoid of the day

When referring to the drink given to the folks over in Jonestown most people call it Kool-Aid. It was not Kool-Aid, but Flavor-Aid.

The problem in Gulf Breeze.
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In Gulf Breeze there is a new addition to the Baxivanos / Edgar family. His name is Nigel, and alternately Nigiri, Hank (given him by the shelter we rescued hims from), ShitHead, Bartholomew (though we never call hims that), and as of last night’s Halloween nightmare, DAMIEN! Here is a picture of him getting ready to make trouble on our toes, ankles, elbows, heels, arms, wrists, and anything else he can get to whilst we are trying to get a good night of sleep.

He is laying down with mommy, planning his next assault upon our persons.

Matilda is pouting due to the arrival of the Terror From Gulf Breeze.

So, more on Nigel/Hank/Bartholomew/ShitHead/Damien later. After laying in bed watching the Food Channel for a couple of hours, we found ourselves determined to go get some ribs and chicken wings, so we headed to McGuire’s for the first time. Holy Amazing! We recommend! Then off to the Bridge Bar where the night turned extraterrestrial when I was abducted and replaced by Alien Jim. Innocently enough, we get some wine and take some cute pics of ourselves.

We go inside and find a quiet spot at the bar. There are some peeps around talking politics and local gossip, etc.

Then I get this queer feeling as if someone is talking to me inside my head. So of course, I start talking back. This bothers Athena.

She gets really pissed and starts yelling back at them.

Whatever she said must have pissed them off, so they started the brain probe.

More probing… so Athena starts looking for someone else to talk to.

I look back to her for help, but she is now busy discussing the merits of service to the community, especially the animals, who have no voice of their own.

I interrupt to say that the aliens now controlling my mind have a very vested interest in the animals of Earth as well. This apparently pissed her off.

That was the last thing I remember before the blue beam took me from the building and replaced me with temporary replacement Jim. Athena is looking to see ‘what the hell was that light?’, unaware of the body-swap occurring behind her. (notice that Alien Jim forgot to bring spectacles – the obvious clencher to the deceit)

She turned back to ask if I saw the light, but Alien Jim has nothing to say.

Unimpressed with my lack of response, she goes back to her original conversation. Alien Jim starts to become bored.

He tries to get her attention. Bleeehhhh!

Listening to Athena talk about all the different animals on Earth made Alien Jim very hungry. Apparently he had not eaten dinner before beaming down.

“You know that’s right, sister!” Athena is saying in her conversation. Alien Jim agrees the best way he knows how, “duhhh.”

Athena debates the issue of factory farming versus free-range. Alien Jim misses his ship and starts transforming back to Real Jim.

Real Jim (hence known as just Jim, or I) tries to explain what happened onboard the alien vessel. Athena runs out of facial muscles trying to express her dismay that I am back.

I say goodbye to my abductors as they fly away. Athena is perturbed that she has to go back to talking to me about beer now.

Athena forgives me for being abducted. (note: that is not Alien Jim again, I took my glasses off)

Hahahaha! We can’t believe you fell for that story. We laugh at you!

In all truth, Gulf Breeze, Florida, has an interesting history of UFO activity. This happened in the late 80′s and has been well documented in many books and documentaries on the subject. You can see the Wiki article HERE or the UFO Casebook article HERE.

Now, onto the Pensacola Interstate Fair! We took a nice day trip to the fairgrounds to see what local flavor we could take in. The fair was chock full of food vendors, animals, and exhibits of food, arts, and cars. There was a Wild West show as well with cowboys riding around shooting off their revolvers. Here are some pics of Athena feeding the animals. Eat my hand! she was saying.

And me feeding the goat/sheep-thing, which I realized later was an incarnation of Satan himself, and here I am feeding the motherfucker!

I know I drone on about the fried food down heeyah, but dig this shit the most! This one vendor had nothing other than fried Oreos, fried Twinkies, and fried Snickers (trademarks of Nabisco, Hostess Brands, and Mars, Inc. respectively.) Athena got the Twinkie, I got the Oreos. Pretty, pretty, pretty interesting. This image is called Thener and the Twink

Now, more animals, including pheasants, roosters, chickens, and pre-chickens!

Back to food! We noshed on something called Butt-Fries, a local delicacy of french fries covered with BBQ pulled pork. Dude fucking! Then an alligator kebab. The bomb, my friends! I have never seen such a tiny gator and how they got it on the stick without being bitten, I will never know. The new trend at the fair this year is apparently the Krispy Kreme (trademark Krispy Kreme) hamburger. You have to see it to believe it, so we got a pic for youse! That was something we were JUST NOT ready for.

Ah yes, the feeding of the soon-to-be King of the Wildlife Refuge here in Florida somewhere. This is Maurice, four months old and loving it already.

This little guy was found that morning, having been born the night before and presumably abandoned by moms.

Eventually, we had to say goodbye and this little marsupial gave us the farewell kiss… OF DEATH!

We went on a ride called The Zipper, which was Athena’s favorite ride since childhood. It scared the shit out of us. Just saying. It was a good time, for sure! We finished up the day with another trip to McGuire’s, where we had gorged on ribs and wings the night before. We did not, mind you, stop at the Bridge Bar on the way home for fear of another abduction experience.

I still have more cats to get up on the site, I KNOW! But for now…

Charles demands more cats!
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Charles, my old buddy from the Microsoft days has commented to me that I am an asshole for only having four pics this year. I swear I thought there were more… and believe me, I have 100 still to post. I will get them done this week, for sure. I am in GO MODE. You will see.

It is about 43 years since I was killed in Vietnam, in the arms of my brother who said to me, DRINK THE FUCKING WATER! as it poured out of my throat wounds. I still have the leg and groin scars from that terrible debacle of U.S. policy. Anyway… thanks to my bro for trying to save me. Love hers!

Tomorrow Athena and I are going to be getting some pics from around town. We have a little area where the pelicans are out of control and will get some pics to post from there. They are amazing birds. In fact, we may do a little nature picture fest and post some of the beautiful sea birds around here. Athena found a little dead snake on the sidewalk yesterday. Poor little guy. Until then, here are some random pics from the past year.

Another pic of Matilda being… Matilda… BOING!.

Athena in Oregon while we were camping playing with the coons.

Me trying to light the campfire in Oregon, which is really Athena’s job, but we ran out of lighter fluid.

In other Pensacola news, the people here drive like shit. Total shit. They ride up your assholes until you are about to have an accident, then they change lanes and give you a look. It is really retarded. Athena’s middle finger is sore from these experiences.

Oh yeah, the food here in the South is crazy. Not good crazy, though. As I have heard from anyone who has ever been here or lived here is the truth: Deep fry everything and let Jehovah sort out my coronary artery disease. Fried green tomatoes, fried okra, etc. Love em all, but come on folks. I wonder how life was here before the deep fryer?

“What we gon’ do with this heyah catfish?” the boss asked. (not Bruce Springsteen)

“Well, we could wrap it in salt-water soaked kudzu leaves with some butter, garlic and bit of tarragon and put it on the coals until it reaches tender perfection?” Johnson offered.

“Johnson, that is the stupidest thing I have ever heard of! What we need is some kind of device that will cook the flesh to a crisp and infuse artery-clogging saturated fats into it! That is what we need heyah!” the boss said, slapping Johnson into the next decade. (again, not Bruce Springsteen)

Anyway, Athena and I were talking about opening a restaurant here on the order of the Anne Arundel Seafood place in Baltimore. YUM YUM! Freshly steamed seafood made to order. Cheap, delicious, expeditious! Last night however, Athena made me aware of what folly that line of thinking really is. Her position is that people around here in the small town South don’t want that kind of food. Otherwise it would already be here. They want their burgers, steaks, chicken wings, fried okra, deep fried pickle spears, etcetera.

We have found some steamed crabs around, but they are rather anemic and ineffectual. In Pensacola Beach, there is a place called Crabs We Got ‘Em which has a nice selection of crabs – five pounds of Dungeness, Snow, and Alaskan King for FITTY BUCKS. They are also on the Gulf of Messico and have good drink specials, so check ‘em out. Great service too. Hemingway’s in P’cola Beach is also nice for the price and the food is delish and the service is friendly. We had a pound of snow crab for ten bucks and eggs Benedict to die for. Wait a second! What is this? YELP.COM?

There is one more thing I am supposed to post about, but my notes are not here, so it will have to wait until the next few days.

Oh, I just check my notes, which sort of refer back to the food rant above. Tempura flakes in your spicy tuna hand roll! RIGHT! What is in a hand roll of the spicy tuna variety?! Rice, chopped tuna, spicy sauce, cuke and avo. THAT’S IT, NIGGGGGIRI! Well, in the South, since you can’t have shit NOT deep fried, they toss huge spoonfulls of deep fried tempura flakes in the hand rolls. It is like… you can’t even taste the delicate flavor of the tuna or, Jehovah forbid, scallops if you like spicy scallop roll. You have to actually order the rolls WITHOUT CRUNCH, as they call it. Crunch this, NAGGGGASAKI!