Sucker, Fish.

It's late. I'm really tired. So, have some suckerfish. And some I Monster. WARNING: The following video contains two stereo speakers simulating... Uh, well, it's weird. Like I said, I'm tired.

Oh, Give Me a Home, Where the Buffalo Roam.

Okay, I actually didn't see the Bill Murray movie about the famous (now dead) gonzo journalist, but I like Bill Murray okay. Let's see. Why did I post this picture? Ah, now I remember. I saw a buffalo in a pasture, next to a public golf course in neighboring Dorchester County, South Carolina. Reminds me of a nugget from the Arrow Book of Jokes from fifth grade:

Buffalo's in a check-out line at Wal-Mart. The cashier stares at him for a minute, as the buffalo impatiently taps his hoof. "I'm sorry", the cashier offered, "It's just that we don't get a lot of buffaloes around here". "Well", said the buffalo, "With service like this, that doesn't surprise me".

Anyway, it was raining, so this isn't a great shot, but here's the buffalo.

A Day at the Races.

The Lads signed up for track and field day at Charleston Southern University (home of the Buccaneers).
We were among the first ones there. The clouds were foreboding.
Crowd picked up, though.
Groups from the very young...
...to kids up to age 14. Where's Waldo? Can you pick out the Lads?
The CSU Football team volunteered.
Run, Taylor, run! The Lads competed in the one mile run. Sadly, this was lap three in a four lap race. They caked out shortly thereafter. I've got to remember to teach them to count to four.
Bushed. The race they'd intended to run, the 400 meters, was rained out; so this was it. Still, a good time was had by all. With a little training, these guys might be alright.

Three Fabulous Daves.

An old school chum, Dave Parkes, played the Villain in an episode of "The Beast" that aired on A&E last night. Even though he has progressed along over these past thirty years, I still easily recognized him. He did a fine job. Like, you know, a professional actor. Dave's English accent was a lot better than the Russian guy's accent.

Dave Parkes, Dave Okamoto, brother AndyMan, Mitch Brown and a few others were thick as thieves in high school. In addition to a slew of high school activities, we managed to find some mischief, too, including Christmas Carolling in late Summer. A couple of our teachers called me, Parkes, and Dave Okamoto "The Three Fabulous Daves". I haven't been called fabulous since.

At left is a picture from the Talon, our yearbook. Dave Parkes, Me, and Dave Okamoto vote for something in a National Honor Society meeting. As I recall, we were voting to keep the standards for NHS the same for future potential entrants. The measure failed because the other members wanted people to think we were smarter than we really were. I still fight a lot of losing battles.

Parkes was the "theater guy". He had his own show in Tampa (Okay, "Kids' World" wasn't winning any Emmys, but, hey, it was a show), and was selected as our "Most Likely to Succeed" out of a class of about 750 students. Oak was "the writer". He put together plays and skits for us for things like Spirit week and Coffee Shop, and was active in the school newspaper. He was selected as "Most Creative" in our class. I was supposed to dine with my two more-talented friends this December, but I was bone-tired and had already made several trips to Cigar City over the weeks, so I ditched them. Looks like now I'll have to bribe their secretaries just to get their autographs. Yeah, well, I can still do more push-ups than they can.

Onan? Oh, Man!

There is more funny stuff out there than most people realize. This generator is behind a fence that I pass every day as I walk to work. Why do I chuckle when I see it? My dad always told me a joke isn't funny if you have to explain it, but dagnammit, I can't help it. o\Onanism is a woefully under-used term (go ahead and click on it. I'll wait). "Onanism" came, as it were, from a dude in the Bible named Onan, who was supposed to sire children by his dead brother's widow for the benefit of said dead brother. He got the goody, but didn't do his duty:

"And Onan knew that the seed should not be his; and it came to pass, when he went in unto his brother's wife, that he spilled it on the ground, lest that he should give seed to his brother". Genesis 38:9 (King James Version)

God ultimately gets pissed at Onan, and kills him; ever after, Onan's name is synonymous with baby-less sex. To generate is to beget or procreate. So what's this dude's name doing on a generator? Seems kind of, ahem, counter-productive, if you catch my drift.

Anyway, against my better judgment, I'm including Monty Python's take on the matter:

Twice as Nice.

Well, one of 'em got a haircut, anyway.

Favorite Albums: BTO: Not Fragile

I used to love Bachman-Turner Overdrive. If you've seen an Office Depot commercial in the last ten years, you know BTO. Their Takin' Care of Business has been paying their bills for awhile now. But that's not the BTO I loved best. "Not Fragile" was just what it claimed to be: Good hard rock. I used to listen to it to get psyched for football practice (see, this should balance out my inclusion of the Westside Story Soundtrack in my fifteen albums. I already posted "Officer Krupke" from that one).

A floor wax AND a dessert topping...

I was perusing Parade today, and read about their list of the World's ten worst dictators. After concluding that they all seem like pretty bad leaders but pretty GOOD dictators (dictators pretty much being not very nice people in general, and all...), I pondered a commodity that we acquire from Sudan, home of the the World's second worst (sic) dictator:

"The U.S. also purchases from Sudan millions of dollars worth of gum Arabic, used in soft drinks, candy, and shoe polish" (emphasis added)

Wait. The stuff we put in our shoe polish, we also put in our soda and candy? Holy Schmidt! I thought we were supposed to know the difference between Sh!t and Shinola. Reminded me of a fake product from days of yore (or your. Or my. Whatever. I'll try to embed this old fake commercial, but in case they pull it, or it otherwise doesn't work, try This).

Blow it out your Yin-Yang, Redux.

I knew one of the kids that had been at my home when my iPod and camera were stolen, so I found out where he lived and talked to his mother. I told his mom that I didn't think her son stole anything from me, but that I knew that he knew the kids that had stolen from me and I wanted my stuff back. Within five minutes- really. Five minutes- I had all my stuff back. I'm not going to have the kids arrested. I am still probably going to tell all of their moms. We'll see if I actually do.

Blow it out your Yin-Yang.

Balance seems to be the watchword of late. For every little victory, there seems to be a little balancing kick in the teeth. I had a good- though exhausting- day in Beaufort with my daughter yesterday. I returned home to discover four kids skittering out of my house. Tyler'd gone to Beaufort with me, and Taylor'd been by himself. Taylor had let four kids into the house. He offered them drinks and hospitality. That apparently wasn't enough, as it appears that they also left with my i-Pod and camera. Ridgeland attorney Thayer Rivers could be frequently heard to opine, "No kind act goes unpunished". True, dat. Anyway, my runs will be unmeasured and tune-free for awhile, and, of course, no pictures except whatever I can glean from the Net. I called 5-0 and made a police report. Better let Harris handle it if we get appointed to represent them. It'll be tough give them my best effort.

Roadtrip: Columbia

I have two 16 year old clients who are charged as adults for most serious crimes. If convicted of their current charges, Armed Robbery and Murder, they are looking at between 10 and 30 years and life in prison, respectively; however, because they are not yet 17 (the age at which a person is considered an adult in South Carolina's criminal justice system) they are being housed at Department of Juvenile Justice Detention facility instead of at the local jail. As soon as they turn 17, they will be transferred to our local jail, with the rest of the adults awaiting trial (or serving sentences of 90 days or less). I've got lots of problems with the way this is all done, but the only significant ramification with which I'm currently concerned is that the County jail is but a short walk from my office, and DJJ is an hour and a half's drive away in Columbia.

After a couple hours reviewing the incident reports, witness statements, warrants, possible sentences and an overview of the procedures that lie ahead with my clients, I'm hungry. This probably does not surprise anyone who has read more than a couple of my posts: I'm generally hungry. I don't have the time or inclination to take a serious tour of the Palmetto State's capitol city, but I would like to eat at some place more exotic than, say, Pizza Hut. Say, what's this?

A Lebanese restaurant? Does this mean all the chicks in there dig the other chicks in there(not that there's anything wrong with that)? Didn't see any evidence of it. Didn't see Jamie Farr, either. I did see some good food, though.

They called this a Kufda Kabob (basically gyro meat- ground beef and lamb with minced onion and green peppers), rice and a Greek Salad. Good stuff!

The Eleventh Plague: Slugs

Rain the other day brought out the slugs. There were only five of 'em; but this close to Passover, I'm not taking any chances. Anybody got any spare lamb's blood?

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

I know a lot about my mom's ancestors, and most of them were from England and Scotland (well, America for a long time, but, you know, way back). Know a little about dad's family: mostly Swedish, but Frank Mathews' dad (my great granddad) married a gal named Rose Lynch, I think. And if that ain't Irish, I'll kiss your... shamrock? Anyway, Internet pal Kate has a really cool Irish post today. Check it out at: Out in Left Field.

Rain, Rain, Go Away.

Good for the grass. Blah, blah. It's a Rainy Day, AND a Monday. Oughta be double indemnity.

Born to Run.

I've been talking smack about running a marathon in aught-nine. One of my Colleton County buds, Matt, thought starting up a Walterboro running club to facilitate distance running would be a good idea. He contacts one of his running buds, Kevin, a local Sheriff's deputy, who was a member in the old running club for support. Kevin is a good old Scot. Five foot, nine, and two hundred and thirty pounds of red hair, muscle, and beer. Kevin shows up with a Trooper friend of his. My best friend, Cathy, makes the trip from Ridgeland. Matt chickens out. Anyway, it was just the four of us, but off we went on a three mile jaunt through the Great Swamp Sanctuary.

None of us are in top shape, but we putter along all right, stopping to walk for a minute or two before the last bit of the adventure. With a quarter mile to go, Cathy picks up the pace. The Trooper had peeled off on a different path a little while back, but there was still plenty of testosterone to meet the challenge that Cathy had tossed down. Kevin inches forward. "Oh, it's on", I thought. I break into a stride. Kevin glances over and starts into a sprint. I kick it into overdrive (Kevin evidently didn't know I'd run track thirty years ago). I'm totally shocked to find that he is right there with me. Damn! Relent, Scotsman! Relent! I'm equally shocked to see his look of shock that I haven't acknowledged defeat. We hit the entrance to the park side by side, huffing and puffing. Cathy is amused by the spectacle of nearly 500 pounds of combined manflesh striving so mightily with nothing at stake. "You're a lot faster than you look", I croaked to the Deputy. "Chasing down criminals", he pants. "You're faster than you look, too", he offers. Probably from chasing ambulances, his expression tacitly added.

Bruce Springsteen may have been born to run, but so was Emmylou Harris.

Good Company.

Hmmm. America won't sign a women's rights treaty (CEDAW). We've got a woman Secretary of State (two times in a row!). Almost had a woman President or Vice-President. Must be a good reason. Ah, says here we're not the only ones: seven other countries think this treaty stinks. I betcha England or France is on there, which is probably why we don't like it. Let's see: Sudan, Somalia, Qatar, Iran, Nauru, Palau, and Tonga. Geez, none of these guys would get picked in sandlot softball! The most influential and powerful of the bunch is Iran. Must be some sorta outreach program. "See, Iran, we don't like women's rights over here, either. You wanna get rid of those nukes? And how 'bout treating Israel a little better".

Reminds me of a song by one of my favorite groups, Queen. "Take care of those you call your own, and keep good company":

Cookout.

The weather in the Boro was just perfect yesterday. Clear and 79 degrees: just right for cooking on the grill. We tossed the Frisbee, and the boys and their friend (and, apparently new housemate, since he's stayed over here about fifteen of the last twenty nights), Trenton, and neighbor Traci's son Zack, invented and played a version of baseball using the desiccated remains of the old Christmas tree at left as their bat.

Fire looks good.

Mmmmm. Burgers.

Favorite Albums: American Graffiti

I got court again this week, and my reports may be spotty; however, I've got a few minutes before I drop off to dreamland, and and tossing up one of my 15 favorite "formative" albums. American Graffiti was a "coming of age" movie set in the late 1950's/early 1960's that spawned "Happy Days". It also sparked a brief revival of music from that era. It was a great soundtrack: Buddy Holly, Fats Domino, The Beach Boys, The Del Vikings, The Diamonds. A double-album packed with good, old music. One of favorites from that album was Del Shannon's Runaway:

Run, Joey, Run.

I've been running a little, lately. I use my Nike + i-Pod to keep me company and to keep up with my mileage. The Nike Plus website links to GoogleEarth, so you can map out your run. Cool, huh? This is, more or less, the route that I ran. I had to guess a little on the trail across Ivanhoe, but the mileage is about right.

Just over five miles. The pace was slow (okay, I walked the last quarter mile. Hey, it still counts), but I burned more than 800 calories. Great! Now I can have pie! Wait. I've got this bet with my brother. Let's check his blog to see how much he ran. Aha! 4.7 miles. Shoot, I got him beat! Wait. Waddya mean 47 miles... Now I'm depressed. I think I'll go eat some pie.

Choosy Muthas...

I cook. I clean. I do laundry. I shop for groceries. I don't particularly want to do these things, but people look at me funny when I walk around in stinky clothes, and Lord knows, I like to eat. The Lads also like to eat. Among other things, they like to eat peanut butter. Yeah, yeah. I know. There's some sort of peanut butter crisis going on. But I can't not eat peanut butter. If I do that, the negligent peanut butter makers have won. And I will NOT let that happen. Anyway, single dad discrimination continues. I buy this thing of extra crunchy, and what do I see?

This! Moms? What about me? I'm a choosy mutha? I'd sing the Blues, but I'm pretty sure it's illegal for Episcopalians to sing the Blues. Say, I know what'd cheer me up:

Favorite Albums: David Bowie, Diamond Dogs

I'm kinda tired, so Imo take the easy way out today. I've already posted two of my 15 most memorable albums, so I figure I'll toss out another today. My folks used to throw the occasional party, lo those many moons ago. They listened to a lot of rock, so I had to kick it up a notch to piss them off. David Bowie did the trick, if only for the album cover. The music was pretty cool, too.

Colonel Mustard, in the Fish Tank, with the Rope.

We got a 55 gallon aquarium at the Manor, the Lads and I do. We're fairly negligent fish owners, though, and have a hard time keeping the tank properly cleaned or stocked. As of Monday, the population in Tank Town was three: an orange African Cichlid, a fat slug of a suckerfish, and a largish catfish. The Cichlid has been my favorite for the couple of years he's been with us, but the catfish has grown on me. The algae-eater? Eh, like I said, he's a slug. Anyhow, Tyler and I decided it was time to boost the population, so we went to Petco. The fishlady wasn't in, so we talked to the dogguy. Dogguy consults the chart, and informs us that Cichlids are aggressive, and can't just live with any old fish. Warriors evidently need other warriors, or the new neighbors are just so much sushi. So, we get plop down 15 clams for an Oscar. Two days later, we're down to one fish: The Cichlid.
Petco has a ten day guarantee on their fish, so I drag in the decomposing carcas and tell the tale of the three dead fish. Prime suspect's gotta be the African Cichlid, 'cause he's the last fish swimming, right? As Lee Corso says on ESPN, "Not so fast, my friend". Fishlady is in this time. She examines the water sample I bring in and the body of "Fugly the Oscar" (did I mention that the Oscar was not a handsome fish?). She does her best Columbo, and tells me what happened. The Oscar attacked and killed the suckerfish, then turned on the catfish; however, the catfish stuck the Oscar with his spines (she tried to show me a couple of little holes in the Oscar at this point), killing the Oscar; the catfish is badly shaken by the whole thing and dies from the stress of the attack. The Cichlid was not involved in the carnage. Fishlady then gave me a store credit, which I promptly redeemed for two more Cichlids, whom I guess I'll call Mike Tyson and Hulk Hogan. They'd better be tough. Them's mean streams out there.

Da-Doo-Doo Doodle.

According to YahooNews, doodling is good for you. I love to doodle. I routinely do it in Court, when things get boring, frequently drawing caricatures of people in the Courtroom. Here, I thought I was being juvenile. Turns out, I'm on the cutting edge of memory training. And that's not all: Just last week, YahooNews told me that fat was good, and last year I learned that napping was good for you. Man, it just gets better and better!

Roadtrip: Estill

Monday I visited a client at the Federal prison in Estill, a town of about 2,500 people, about an hour due West of the Boro. I forgot my camera, but I the photo stock I stole from the internet is accurate. The dilapidated building typical of the area. In the drive from Walterboro to Estill, I passed many small churches (mostly Baptist, but with a Church of Christ and a few non-denominationals tossed in) and timber tracks; a couple of cotton fields, hunting clubs and deer processing plants; one liquor store; and Freddy's Taxidermy. I lost cellphone reception at Freddy's.

Bull Durham Tobacco ad on brick building by the railroad tracks.

When I got to the prison, the kind guard at the front desk told me that the paperwork allowing me entry had not been completed, and I'd have to wait awhile. After an hour of scintillating conversation with the vending machines, I asked the lady if I might slip out to get some lunch while they figured out if they wanted to let me in. She said that'd be fine, and recommended the Mexican restaurant in town. She told me to get to El Zarape, I need to go back into town, take a left at the town's only stop light, cross the railroad tracks and it's at the strip mall. I can't miss it. She recommended the buffet. Now, sampling ethnic food in a small rural town is always dicey, but the options in Estill are limited, so I took a chance. I did, indeed, try the buffet. Let's see... I guess those are enchiladas. Probably you can make your own tacos with that stuff. What's this? Pork chops? Fried okra? Macaroni and cheese? It was obvious I was at a Southern buffet; not so obvious I was in a Mexican restaurant. Actually, the food was pretty good, and they served it with a big ol' glass of Sweet Tea:

The Monkees.

I posted on one of my favorite 15 albums recently. I can't find the picture I needed for the post I was gonna do, so I'll just post another of the fifteen. Kinda my version of teachers showing a movie when they just can't get it together or they need a break. My first album was Monkees Headquarters. You remember The Monkees, right? Mid-1960's rock-band comedy? Davey Jones, Micky Dolenz, Mike Nesmith, and Peter Tork? No? Well, "Headquarters" wasn't their best album, but it was my first album, so it made my list of fifteen most memorable albums. The video below is not from that album, but was one of my favorite Monkees' songs.