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TOTALLY RANDOM POST II
- Thread starter minds_I
- Start date
N
nordie
try a jar of vegemite mate lol.
nun's fanny oh no i still gotta try it
N
nordie
You know I already tried it cobber...the stuff tastes like a nun's fanny.
But I'm glad that you and me have the same taste for good weed and good beer in common..
OkThen
Member
Red Dragon blotter was one of the best i found years ago. brown windowpane was pretty damn fine too...
M
moose eater
Some bimbo, failing to yield to a red light, or not paying sufficient attention, or in such a hurry as to justify putting my son's and wife's lives at stake, ran a red light yesterday, when my younger son had a green, left-hand-turn arrow in the opposing direction of travel. The bimbo in reference nearly T-boned my wife's vehicle, and had my son not punched the throttle, my phone call with my wife, who was sitting in the front passenger seat, would've possibly included her final seconds on the planet..
I was on the phone with my wife when it happened, and I heard a serious high-pitched sound from the other end of the call, and thought it might've been squealing tires. It was not tires that I had heard. It was my wife staring at death, as the less-than-respectful woman who ran the red light (a circumstance I now witness nearly every trip I take to town, and sometimes more than once per trip) nearly struck the side of the vehicle my wife was in.
The fellow who was immediately behind my son stomped on his brakes, or he would've introduced himself to the disrespectful bimbo on a very personal and abrupt basis.
I rarely call the cops, as they rarely believe in the rights I do have, let alone the rights I once had, but I phoned them, after my wife had already done so at my request. I've personally phoned in 2 red-light-runners in the last week. I'll be doing more in the future... when ever I see the bastards, and am unable to personally chase the SOBs down for a good, lasting lesson in 'instant karma.'
I told the dispatcher that the frequency with which I witness such poor driving habits is now nearly each trip I take to town, and that while the state of Alaska is in a financial tail-spin at the moment, and I realize the cops can't be at every intersection, every second of the day, they might seriously reduce the State's budget deficit by placing an unmarked patrol car at specific intersections with the dash cam running on a loop.
The streets are no longer icy, but rather dry and clean for the most part, thus there's no justifiable reason for the running of red lights.
I told them, additionally, that should someone driving a motor vehicle, behaving as an air-head, or just in such a huge fucking hurry, as to justify compromising my wife's or other family members' well-being, that it will be THE most personal action they can engage in, as far as I'm concerned, whether intentional or not.
I further informed the dispatcher that the perpetrator of such mayhem can rest assured that pronouncing the judge's name correctly will -never- be an issue they need to worry about, as the resolve and any compensation for any resulting carnage will never reach that phase.
If driving distracted, medicated beyond reason, simply not paying attention, or deluded into believing for some incomprehensible, Cosmic, otherwise-unknown reason that a time schedule supersedes my family's safety, rest assured in knowing that I would hunt that motherfucker down, and deliver immediate restitution in spades.
I suspect that edge puts a whole new flow of thought on the expectation that others go about their business in such a frame of mind as to demonstrate that they're responsible & paying attention. Harming another's family member in such an entirely inexcusable manner can have consequences the average bone-head rarely even conceptualizes. Quite seriously.
I was on the phone with my wife when it happened, and I heard a serious high-pitched sound from the other end of the call, and thought it might've been squealing tires. It was not tires that I had heard. It was my wife staring at death, as the less-than-respectful woman who ran the red light (a circumstance I now witness nearly every trip I take to town, and sometimes more than once per trip) nearly struck the side of the vehicle my wife was in.
The fellow who was immediately behind my son stomped on his brakes, or he would've introduced himself to the disrespectful bimbo on a very personal and abrupt basis.
I rarely call the cops, as they rarely believe in the rights I do have, let alone the rights I once had, but I phoned them, after my wife had already done so at my request. I've personally phoned in 2 red-light-runners in the last week. I'll be doing more in the future... when ever I see the bastards, and am unable to personally chase the SOBs down for a good, lasting lesson in 'instant karma.'
I told the dispatcher that the frequency with which I witness such poor driving habits is now nearly each trip I take to town, and that while the state of Alaska is in a financial tail-spin at the moment, and I realize the cops can't be at every intersection, every second of the day, they might seriously reduce the State's budget deficit by placing an unmarked patrol car at specific intersections with the dash cam running on a loop.
The streets are no longer icy, but rather dry and clean for the most part, thus there's no justifiable reason for the running of red lights.
I told them, additionally, that should someone driving a motor vehicle, behaving as an air-head, or just in such a huge fucking hurry, as to justify compromising my wife's or other family members' well-being, that it will be THE most personal action they can engage in, as far as I'm concerned, whether intentional or not.
I further informed the dispatcher that the perpetrator of such mayhem can rest assured that pronouncing the judge's name correctly will -never- be an issue they need to worry about, as the resolve and any compensation for any resulting carnage will never reach that phase.
If driving distracted, medicated beyond reason, simply not paying attention, or deluded into believing for some incomprehensible, Cosmic, otherwise-unknown reason that a time schedule supersedes my family's safety, rest assured in knowing that I would hunt that motherfucker down, and deliver immediate restitution in spades.
I suspect that edge puts a whole new flow of thought on the expectation that others go about their business in such a frame of mind as to demonstrate that they're responsible & paying attention. Harming another's family member in such an entirely inexcusable manner can have consequences the average bone-head rarely even conceptualizes. Quite seriously.
OkThen
Member
Glad your family is Ok moose eater, fast thinking on your son's part to get out of the way.
I'm assuming you are talking about Fairbanks or Anchorage. Lots of scary drivers there. A person realy has to pay attention. I spent nearly thirty years in Anch, glad I finally got out.
Blessings to you and yours.
I'm assuming you are talking about Fairbanks or Anchorage. Lots of scary drivers there. A person realy has to pay attention. I spent nearly thirty years in Anch, glad I finally got out.
Blessings to you and yours.
M
moose eater
Thanks. My rules re. 'civility' go out the window when someone's carelessness places a loved one (or another, for that matter) in harm's way.
Yes, it was Fairbanks.
I used to tell folks that people in Los Anchorage drive like they do on I-5 in LA at rush-hour; 70 miles per hour on the Glenn Hwy, with fresh wet snow on the road, 15' off each others' bumpers, with a collection of vehicles already racked up in the ditch, and the others apparently missing those very present clues.. Gives a new view to the word 'lemmings.' 'Just following another asshole over the bank and into the river..."
These days, many in Fairbanks (less than 1/10th of the number of people in Los Anchorage, last I checked) seem to drive like they used to in Anchorage and larger Lower-48 cities.
Darwinism at its finest.
Yes, my son's reflexes likely made the difference in my wife being OK, not being OK, or being a fatality.
I've told all of my kids and my wife, too, but especially my younger son, to try to -always- be aware of the surrounding reality, whether walking, driving, etc., to the side, rear, and front, and, largely as a product of my years of riding motorcycles, cross-country and elsewise, to view the horizon all around, and routinely ask yourself (especially in traffic), "What's the most lame move someone can make here?" and prepare for that, including imagining an exit route, should you have to bite the ditch to avoid some individual who simply shouldn't have a license OR a motor vehicle.. There's a surprisingly disappointing number of times someone in my field of view has lived up to my creative analysis & related question(s)..
I've got over 2,000,000 road miles under my belt, and have seen a fair bit of carnage on the road; much of it avoidable, and ultimately belonging to persons who thought their distractions or time was more important than another person's. Those very vivid memories nearly always, still to this day, leave me with the same weird combination of piqued anger and severe sadness that they did when I first came upon which ever tragedy it was. But (though I can't swear to it at 100% definition), I think this was the first time I was on the phone with a loved one when they were looking death in the eye, and reacting at a very primal level.. screaming.
I don't want to re-live that moment any time soon, if ever again.
Thanks again for the well-wishes.
Yes, it was Fairbanks.
I used to tell folks that people in Los Anchorage drive like they do on I-5 in LA at rush-hour; 70 miles per hour on the Glenn Hwy, with fresh wet snow on the road, 15' off each others' bumpers, with a collection of vehicles already racked up in the ditch, and the others apparently missing those very present clues.. Gives a new view to the word 'lemmings.' 'Just following another asshole over the bank and into the river..."
These days, many in Fairbanks (less than 1/10th of the number of people in Los Anchorage, last I checked) seem to drive like they used to in Anchorage and larger Lower-48 cities.
Darwinism at its finest.
Yes, my son's reflexes likely made the difference in my wife being OK, not being OK, or being a fatality.
I've told all of my kids and my wife, too, but especially my younger son, to try to -always- be aware of the surrounding reality, whether walking, driving, etc., to the side, rear, and front, and, largely as a product of my years of riding motorcycles, cross-country and elsewise, to view the horizon all around, and routinely ask yourself (especially in traffic), "What's the most lame move someone can make here?" and prepare for that, including imagining an exit route, should you have to bite the ditch to avoid some individual who simply shouldn't have a license OR a motor vehicle.. There's a surprisingly disappointing number of times someone in my field of view has lived up to my creative analysis & related question(s)..
I've got over 2,000,000 road miles under my belt, and have seen a fair bit of carnage on the road; much of it avoidable, and ultimately belonging to persons who thought their distractions or time was more important than another person's. Those very vivid memories nearly always, still to this day, leave me with the same weird combination of piqued anger and severe sadness that they did when I first came upon which ever tragedy it was. But (though I can't swear to it at 100% definition), I think this was the first time I was on the phone with a loved one when they were looking death in the eye, and reacting at a very primal level.. screaming.
I don't want to re-live that moment any time soon, if ever again.
Thanks again for the well-wishes.
M
moose eater
Had to get the third of five vehicles into town early this A.M. for a state-of-the-art alignment; seems it's the year for the entire stable of licensed road vehicles to get checked for tracking, camber, caster, toe-in/out, and such.
My senior's bucket list isn't that impressive, really. I've done many things in my years, but as far as any grand schemes I believe need to be accomplished before I die, well, that's probably no longer a list than finishing my long-overdue greenhouse, building a root cellar into the side of the hill out back, helping to build my wife's sauna she's waited so patiently for, perfecting my soilless mix, and maybe finishing the barn's siding ....
Probably the most elaborate items on my bucket list would be getting drawn for, and harvesting, a wood bison permit for Delta Jct.'s herd (I've been putting in 2 permit apps per year for them for over 20 years.. and nothing yet), accessing and smoking some excellent traditional temple ball 'shish, on-site in Nepal, some Kashmir 'shish in N. India, chewing an unlimited supply of coca leaves in the mountains of South America, etc. All of which I've done in the States, but most of which I figure would be enhanced experiences in the land of their origin.
Of the more realistic and achievable items on my list, I've toyed with taking advantage of the well-advertised 'senior discount' at Denny's, for about a half-decade now. I mean, what says, "Thanks for your time on the planet!" more than a lukewarm order of 'Moons over My-Hammy.' Besides, when I say it aloud, I can see the face of the Cuban informant in Miami Vice years ago. It's a dialectic thing, I think.
So this morning, after dropping off my truck for the previously mentioned processes, I somewhat spontaneously proposed to my wife that we stop at Denny's and take them up on their seniors' offering.
Well.... after reading several pages of heavily laminated and glossy menu items, complete with pictorial presentations, all of which had 'WARNING: Just reading this menu may cause Type II diabetes," written all over it.. I finally decided that building my own omelet was the safest strategy, particularly once I'd confirmed that their mushrooms weren't from a can.
Didn't think to interrogate the waitress about the sourcing of the jalapenos. If such an opportunity arises in the future (unlikely), then I may remind myself to do that.
The 'whole wheat toast' looked like a whole wheat blend bread, that had been dredged through cold bacon grease, as the toast had clearly not been warm enough to melt what ever butter-substitute was in play in the kitchen there.
I knew before ordering that the likelihood of them having -real- hash brown spuds was slim, and the waitress told me that my reliable safety option, ordering home-fried spuds instead, was a no-go. So dehydrated hash browns from a carton was the only potato option. Apologies to the Irish for what our dehydrated nuclear food stores and preppers have done to your (and my) sacred veggie, the potato.
The omelet arrived, with the 'caramelized onions' clearly having been pre-prepared that morning... or the previous day, maybe. The spinach was decent when it could be located. The jalapeno slices in the thing were obviously pickled and from a jar/can. The waitress, who carried no order pad or pen (whom I'd initially thought might be gifted with a similar identic memory as mine, but later confirmed upon delivery of the order that she didn't possess such traits), apparently mistook my request for feta cheese for cheddar; no irreparable harm there, but still.... cheddar ain't feta... I mean, one's white and inherently crumbly, while....
Coffee was (as anticipated) somewhat bland and non-descript, like a roadhouse drip system, but without the road house decorum.
In the end, after a 15% senior discount, and after factoring in a $5 tip, the bill was just under $30.
I fondly but silently recalled the truck stop near Woodstock, Ontario, Ca. in the later 70s, where, as a younger hitch-hiker, I could tie my dog to a post, leave my packs with her, & get a GOOD steak and eggs breakfast, with real home-fried spuds or real hash browns, for all of $2.50 CAD.... next door to numerous operating family farms..
I thought about the Denny's breakfast this A.M., and the similarity or parallel in offering a discounted access to the very definition of mediocrity, for seniors, and the rest of this life, and what it's come to be. In that regard, I concluded that Denny's was A.) not worthy of its presence on my bucket list (y'all who haven't scratched that one off your lists yet can take heed, and just send me 50% of what you might've otherwise spent, for saving you the wasted moments of modest disappointment in your remaining years), but having done it now, I can remove it from my list, and B.)... Oh.. I nearly forgot 'B.' in all of this rambling... Denny's delivers a visual and taste-reinforced reminder of the mediocrity we've come to accept as decent or normal, and for that, I am not yet sure whether they should be fined, or rewarded.
I suspect that after a few puffs of Raspberry Lemon Haze (courtesy of generous friends), and an oil change on the old RAV4 in preparation for an upcoming trip (for which I'm not yet certain as to which vehicle I'm driving, so ALL of them have to be ready), I may have a better idea regarding the answer to that conundrum.
That, and I still need a hair-cut for the Border. I always try to look my conservative best when crossing federal borders. After all, they represent yet another fine example of the mediocrity we have come to accept as 'normal.' And as we know now, if we've been paying attention, life in this new age seems to largely be about appearances, in one way or another.
With that, I'm guessing the folks at Denny's would agree. I mean, the pics were pretty impressive.
My senior's bucket list isn't that impressive, really. I've done many things in my years, but as far as any grand schemes I believe need to be accomplished before I die, well, that's probably no longer a list than finishing my long-overdue greenhouse, building a root cellar into the side of the hill out back, helping to build my wife's sauna she's waited so patiently for, perfecting my soilless mix, and maybe finishing the barn's siding ....
Probably the most elaborate items on my bucket list would be getting drawn for, and harvesting, a wood bison permit for Delta Jct.'s herd (I've been putting in 2 permit apps per year for them for over 20 years.. and nothing yet), accessing and smoking some excellent traditional temple ball 'shish, on-site in Nepal, some Kashmir 'shish in N. India, chewing an unlimited supply of coca leaves in the mountains of South America, etc. All of which I've done in the States, but most of which I figure would be enhanced experiences in the land of their origin.
Of the more realistic and achievable items on my list, I've toyed with taking advantage of the well-advertised 'senior discount' at Denny's, for about a half-decade now. I mean, what says, "Thanks for your time on the planet!" more than a lukewarm order of 'Moons over My-Hammy.' Besides, when I say it aloud, I can see the face of the Cuban informant in Miami Vice years ago. It's a dialectic thing, I think.
So this morning, after dropping off my truck for the previously mentioned processes, I somewhat spontaneously proposed to my wife that we stop at Denny's and take them up on their seniors' offering.
Well.... after reading several pages of heavily laminated and glossy menu items, complete with pictorial presentations, all of which had 'WARNING: Just reading this menu may cause Type II diabetes," written all over it.. I finally decided that building my own omelet was the safest strategy, particularly once I'd confirmed that their mushrooms weren't from a can.
Didn't think to interrogate the waitress about the sourcing of the jalapenos. If such an opportunity arises in the future (unlikely), then I may remind myself to do that.
The 'whole wheat toast' looked like a whole wheat blend bread, that had been dredged through cold bacon grease, as the toast had clearly not been warm enough to melt what ever butter-substitute was in play in the kitchen there.
I knew before ordering that the likelihood of them having -real- hash brown spuds was slim, and the waitress told me that my reliable safety option, ordering home-fried spuds instead, was a no-go. So dehydrated hash browns from a carton was the only potato option. Apologies to the Irish for what our dehydrated nuclear food stores and preppers have done to your (and my) sacred veggie, the potato.
The omelet arrived, with the 'caramelized onions' clearly having been pre-prepared that morning... or the previous day, maybe. The spinach was decent when it could be located. The jalapeno slices in the thing were obviously pickled and from a jar/can. The waitress, who carried no order pad or pen (whom I'd initially thought might be gifted with a similar identic memory as mine, but later confirmed upon delivery of the order that she didn't possess such traits), apparently mistook my request for feta cheese for cheddar; no irreparable harm there, but still.... cheddar ain't feta... I mean, one's white and inherently crumbly, while....
Coffee was (as anticipated) somewhat bland and non-descript, like a roadhouse drip system, but without the road house decorum.
In the end, after a 15% senior discount, and after factoring in a $5 tip, the bill was just under $30.
I fondly but silently recalled the truck stop near Woodstock, Ontario, Ca. in the later 70s, where, as a younger hitch-hiker, I could tie my dog to a post, leave my packs with her, & get a GOOD steak and eggs breakfast, with real home-fried spuds or real hash browns, for all of $2.50 CAD.... next door to numerous operating family farms..
I thought about the Denny's breakfast this A.M., and the similarity or parallel in offering a discounted access to the very definition of mediocrity, for seniors, and the rest of this life, and what it's come to be. In that regard, I concluded that Denny's was A.) not worthy of its presence on my bucket list (y'all who haven't scratched that one off your lists yet can take heed, and just send me 50% of what you might've otherwise spent, for saving you the wasted moments of modest disappointment in your remaining years), but having done it now, I can remove it from my list, and B.)... Oh.. I nearly forgot 'B.' in all of this rambling... Denny's delivers a visual and taste-reinforced reminder of the mediocrity we've come to accept as decent or normal, and for that, I am not yet sure whether they should be fined, or rewarded.
I suspect that after a few puffs of Raspberry Lemon Haze (courtesy of generous friends), and an oil change on the old RAV4 in preparation for an upcoming trip (for which I'm not yet certain as to which vehicle I'm driving, so ALL of them have to be ready), I may have a better idea regarding the answer to that conundrum.
That, and I still need a hair-cut for the Border. I always try to look my conservative best when crossing federal borders. After all, they represent yet another fine example of the mediocrity we have come to accept as 'normal.' And as we know now, if we've been paying attention, life in this new age seems to largely be about appearances, in one way or another.
With that, I'm guessing the folks at Denny's would agree. I mean, the pics were pretty impressive.
