Will someone PLEASE make me stop.

So I pick up the mail and there is the monthly mini-catalog from Musician’s Friend and I toss it aside and go on with my day, fiddle-dee-dee. So a couple of hours later I sit down and open the catalog up and am making the “hmmm” and ‘hrrrummm” noises and on page 7, lower right hand corner I look, and then I look again, and then I turn a light on and look yet again… yeah, it does say Limited Edition George Harrison Tribute Telecaster, and that damn picture is of his Rosewood guitar… and those fuckers cost stupid money and you can’t get them any more and Rosewood is now officially on the UN shitlist for import/export and also this sentence is just getting ridiculously long. But yeah, the description calls it out as a solid Rosewood Tele, limited to 1,000 guitars world wide, for $2,500.

Now I got to explain some shit to some of you folks. Firstly, the original Rosewood Telecaster was hand made for George Harrison by Roger Rossmeisl in 1968. Fender made close duplicates of them available the following year and discontinued them in 1972. Since then, Fender has made a few limited edition runs of them; depending on the exactitude of the copying of the original, the retail price has varied from “slightly above a normal Telecaster” to “many thousands of your dollars”.

As best I can figure, Fender USA made the aforementioned original copies from ’69 to ’72. Fender Japan made them available starting at some point in the 1980s until ’94. Fender USA then made limited edition runs in 2007 and 2016. And now, in what will probably be the last run ever, they are making 1,000 more. Now you are gonna ask me “HandsomeMork, why for and how come do you say this will be the last run?” This will be the last run because of CITES.

CITES is the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species of Wild Flora and Fauna. As of Jan 2, 2017, it is easier to move heroin across borders than it is to move Rosewood. The primary driver in getting Rosewood on the shitlist is the Communist Chinese furniture market. Rosewood furniture is hugely popular in China and the Chinese have a long history of ignoring international agreements when it suits them. There were specific types of Rosewood that were already restricted from international trade (specifically the Rosewood used to make their furniture), but they lied and prevaricated and forged documents stating that THIS batch of Rosewood was the non-restricted type of Rosewood and nothing to see here, move along, move along. The Chinese did this on such a large scale that the boom has been lowered. ALL Rosewood is now restricted from crossing borders without permits, paperwork, inspection certifications, etc (all these words are synonyms for “fees”).

Rosewood has pretty much always been THE wood of choice for guitar fretboards. Fretboards are fairly thin strips of wood that are glued to the face of the guitar neck and have the frets and fret markers inlaid in them. So when the new CITES rules went into effect, the guitar industry was immediately faced with several issues, and suddenly the Rosewood that the manufacturers had ON HAND became quite a bit more valuable. As an example, Fender is raising the price of all Rosewood fretboard guitars by $50 across the board.

Rosewood will still be available (especially Indian Rosewood, which has been a well maintained renewable resource for years), but there will be government paper work every step of the way (fees, fees, fees and more fees) so the cost of Rosewood is basically fixing to go way up. How much up? That is the $64 question. No one knows how much at this point, but there is no doubt it is going up.

So now we get back around to this Rosewood Telecaster. With the cost of Rosewood going up and the supply now subject to numerous government agencies across different countries, this looks to be the last run of these beautiful instruments that will carry the Fender name. To be sure, custom builders that have sufficient Rosewood on hand will be able to build you a one off, but the price tag will be positively brutal. Also, it won’t say “Fender” on it.

So to bring this back around to the beginning, I looked that the advertised price, muttered “wait just a minute” and walked to my office. A quick look at Ebay, Reverb and a couple of other sites confirmed what I thought: the last Fender reissue of these things are selling for 5 to 6K. So the “guitar math” on this one is pretty simple; go ahead and order this and when it gets here just put it in the back of the closet and wait a year. Profit.

If you want one, act right now. They will officially be released on August 22 and I suspect by then it will be too late.

Chipotle-Yogurt Chicken Kebabs and Street Corn

I’ve heard a rumor it’s hot in the summer.  This might be a fact rather than a rumor as it was hot today. Most everyone I talk to is saying it’s hot outside. What better way to keep the house cool than to grill, outside that is.  I’ve found that grilling inside is not only hot, but a little dangerous. It’s a bad idea; keep the grill outside.  I used my grill outside today to make chipolte-yogurt chicken kebabs and street corn.  Oh boy howdy was it good!  The bonus: I didn’t heat up the house.

I pull out my little black book.  No, not to call a man.  I have a little black book of my favorite recipes.  Most people have their grandmother’s and mother’s recipes in a little book of recipes or recipe cards.  Not me. My grandmother and mother couldn’t cook.  My little black book is full of different recipes I’ve collected from here and there.  I can’t recall where I’ve found these recipes and to clarify they are not my recipes because I am not experimental in the kitchen.

With that said lets get cooking!  Today is chipolte-yogurt chicken kebabs.  I also had some leftover corn on the cob that I didn’t use over during the week; I’m going to use it to make street corn.

 

 

Chipotle-Yogurt Chicken Kebabs

1/2 cup plain fat free yogurt

1 chipolte chile in adobo sauce, minced

1 large garlic clove, minced

1 tsp ground cumin

1/2 tsp salt

1/4 tsp pepper

1 1/2 lbs chicken breast, cut into cubes

Mix all the ingredients and marinade for 1-2 hours.  I just dumped all the ingredients in a ziplock bag and mixed them while they are in the bag.  (Actually today I used chicken thighs, maybe I do experiment in the kitchen.  Look at me go!)  Skewer the chicken and grill until done.  I use metal skewers as I find they are easier for me; those wooden skewers give me splinters even after I soak them.

 

 

Street Corn

4 ears of corn, roasted

3 TBS mayo

2 tsp lime juice

2 TBSP cotija cheese (or feta)

1/2 tsp chili powder

1/4 tsp ground cumin

1/4 ground red pepper (or hot sauce)

1/8 tsp salt

Remove the corn off the cob and mix with all the other ingredients.  Food orgasm, seriously you gotta try it. I like mine warm so if my corn is cold I will warm it up.  This tastes just as good as the corn you get on the street.  To clarify, the corn tastes like it came from an elote (street corn) vendor on the street, not from the gutter.

 

Random thoughts

Pretzels. Why are they SO fucking addictive?

Turnip Greens. A strange name for what may be the best effects pedal in history.

Hooverphonic. The best band in the world you are not listening to.

Rule Seven. Why do some of you keep breaking it?

Psychology. Arguably the greatest scam EVER.

5.56×45 vs 7.62×51. This is such a no-brainer. Yet another bad decision made by Robert McNamara that we still have to live with.

 

 

Dildos in the sky

I’ve heard the universe gives you what you need;  apparently the people of Portland need sex. The universe has delivered to the residents of Portland dildos via power lines.  I don’t know about you but I find this not only interesting but shocking.  (see what I did there?) I had so many questions and thoughts. My mind ran in excitement of the dildos falling from the sky.

During a recent conversation I had with HandsomeMork, we stumbled across the topic of dildos.  I told him how a friend of mine received a box from amazon.  She, like most of us, was excited to get a package and ran inside to open it. She opened the box and, to her amazement, found a box of dildos of numerous sizes,  many different flavored lubricants, and many other adult items.  Let your imagination run wild on those other items.  She told me she was in shock and just stared into the box with horror.  I thought to myself, ‘why horror?’ That would be awesome to receive a box of adult toys. The best part was she didn’t pay for it! She stated she didn’t order them and needed to return them.  (Yeah right.)  She called amazon and had the items returned as they were ordered by the previous home owner (she had just moved into her new home) and he hadn’t changed his address on amazon.  After finding out the previous home owner was a man the other adult items in the box made more sense; oh the wheels in your head are turning aren’t they?

This conversation forced HandsomeMork to google ‘box of dildos.’  I thought he was going to order me a box of dildos; I wasn’t going to protest.  A news article caught his attention,  “Saga of hanging dildos…”  Such a curious title isn’t it?  The short version of the story is; box of dildos stolen, dildos found hanging from power lines.  You can find the news link here:

http://www.oregonlive.com/portland/index.ssf/2015/07/box_of_dildos_were_stolen_from.html

This brings up so many questions for me!  Who would steal a box of dildos?  If caught, is it on your record that you stole a box of dildos?  Imagine the comments and jokes from your friends if you were caught stealing a box of dildos.  You readers know you would give your friend a hard time if they were charged with stealing a box of dildos.  You are currently thinking of the jokes you would tell your friend.

Soon after the dildos were stolen, dildos were found hanging from power lines much like an old pair of shoes. I’ve always heard shoes hanging from power lines means that’s where you can buy drugs.  What can you buy if it’s dildos instead of shoes?  Are the dildos used?  The news story doesn’t tell us if they were the stolen dildos, therefore it is possible that they are different dildos.  If they are used, will DNA tests be taken to find the rightful owner of the dildos?  If they do find the owners of said dildos will they post the photos of the owners online like they do with mugshots?  (That would be awesome.) Is this where dildos go to die? And my favorite question or thought: is this what happens when we throw away our dildos, the garbage man finds them and hangs them on the power line in order to shame ladies who threw the dildo away?  Does the universe know what size you need in order to satisfy you or is it a cruel joke?  Is it raining dildos in Portland? Am I a little freakish because I have so many questions? (Yes.)

As my mind races with questions, I find myself wondering about the men of Portland.  What is the reaction of men who realize that women can just pick up dildos on the street?  I find most women have dildos but are too embarrassed to talk about it. I’m unsure if men know how many women actually own dildos; now in Portland its easier to get a dildo.  Do the Portland men need to step up their game a little in the romance department?  Do single Portland men give up and move to another city to find unsatisfied women? What do men think of this? How many times can I type dildo?

My mind has gone into overdrive with this story.  I need a break.  I will go and relax. How do I relax? With my dildo.

 

 

 

 

 

Like me! Like me! Like me!

I remember as a child getting the ‘do you like me’ notes.  I never got those notes daily asking me to Like, Subscribe, Friend or Follow.  Sometimes I happen across a channel or page that I find interesting and will forget the name of it.  I will save it as a favorite or write it down.  The constant junking of my email of subscribed things has made reading my email intolerable, forcing me to make new email accounts.  Now I have so many fake email accounts for all the subscribery (it’s a word now) and following nonsense that I can’t remember all of my email accounts.  I blame old age for not remembering.  Maybe I should start blaming my alcohol consumption for killing my brain cells since that is “cooler.”   I digress.  The constant desire for people to be liked and racking up those like numbers is, in my opinion, an adult way to get a trophy for doing nothing.

A perfect example: I was recently informed of two channels on Ivlog that are feuding over likes and music.  (I must say that this is all third party information. It is possible I might have the story wrong.  I have changed the names to protect the innocent/guilty.)  I refer to this as a “feud” when in fact one side thinks it’s a feud and the other side thinks its hilarious, meaning one channel is upset and moronic, and the other channel doesn’t care and finds it pathetic yet humorous.  I will touch on the moronic first.

It is possible for two channels to play the same songs or musical genre.  Some people consider this stealing music while others would consider this enjoying the same types of music and songs.  Now on to my point.  Channel Uptight Corncobs (UC)  is upset with Channel No Fucks Given (NFG)  because NFG has more green thumbs or likes.  UC reminds their audience frequently to like the show whereas NFG doesn’t mention it unless it’s to thank an audience member for liking their show.  UC has made comments during UC’s broadcast regarding this feud, causing more drama than is needed.  UC needs to relax and remove the corncob from their derriere.  Life’s trophy isn’t the number of likes next to your name.  If it is, then I’m failing at life.

Maybe it’s my upbringing; being locked in a closet for 17 years has given me the mental capacity to not care if people like me or I have a number of people who push a button next to my name.  If I were in a sick and twisted movie where people voted to kill me or put me in the Hunger Games then I would care.  Last I checked, social media/broadcasting is not life threatening. I digress again.

To articulate my point, I think the constant desire to have fake people like you is foolish.  If you have friends who communicate with you, hopefully in a positive manner, then you are liked, maybe even loved.

 

Risky Business

Let’s go over some recent history together, just the two of us.

In the opening months of 2016, the users of Possibly The Biggest Steaming Pile of Horseshit of the Internet saw a lot of this:

This was Gout Boy’s none-too-subtle attempt to coerce the user base of his dodgy website to give him a monthly fee simply to view a handful of social deviants and the chance to watch re-runs of the Simpsons and The Big Bang Theory.

The rational behind that image implies that there is a Technical Issue that is keeping you from accessing the site (video servers are AT CAPACITY!), but the text on the image makes it clear that you can BUY YOUR WAY OUT of that Technical Issue.

Shockingly, he got next to no takers on his generous offer. Imagine that. Instead of paying into his blatantly obvious and truly pathetic shakedown scheme, the user base sought various means of getting around Gout Boy’s self-engineered “outages” or they simply left his site, never to return.

Best laid plans, eh, Gout Boy?

Now it appears that their sights have shifted and it is the streamers, the providers of the “entertainment” and the streamers of old television shows and movies that are being told to pony up, lest they fail to connect to one of the fabulously expensive ingest servers that cost a king’s ransom for the Tennessee Tycoons of the World Wide Web to rent every month.

Now being charitable and cautious, I am mildly amused by this new attempt to extort money out of the users of his mother’s website, but if I were to be placing any wagers on the outcome of this, I would bet the house, the kid’s college funds and the 401K that this is gonna fizzle out just as gloriously as the Great Video Servers Are At Capacity Scam of 2016.

Gout Boy, you ain’t Amazon. NO ONE, EVER, is going to pay you for a fucking premium account. You suck, your mom sucks, your website sucks. Your track record of delivering on promises sucks. Your ability to keep your site up and running sucks. That adds up to a metric assload of suckage.

I don’t know what’s wrong…

… but I know how to fix it.

Gout Boy, the genius coder and the smartest human being to ever live, currently reports that he is uncertain as to why his site is experiencing issues, however he does know the solution to these issues is YOU buying a VIP account.

I swear, I could not make this shit up.

Fly the Smelly Skies

It is reported in the news that a commercial airliner was forced (FORCED) to land at RDU on Sunday due to a passenger cutting the cheese at altitude.

Yes, a fart knocked an airliner right out of the sky. An ISIS spokesman praised Allah and claimed responsibility for the fart, stating that all future flights from the heretical western countries would be boarded by cabbage eating freedom fighters dedicated to bringing down and eradicating the corrupt blight of the Crusader airlines.

Fortunately, my fellow travelers of the airways, technology sallies forth to our rescue. Behold, the miracle that is the Fart Silencer. Not only does the fart silencer act to suppress the sound of anal emission, it can easily be adjusted to mask the odoriferous byproduct of the stinky poot. To quote from the linked article, “Users are also instructed to spray a cotton ball with their favorite perfume and put it into the “Fart Silencer” to eliminate any unwanted odor that might occur.”

People, we live in an age of miracles.

Human Excrement

I want to tell you a story. It’s a story that has to do with a human pile of shit that currently goes by “Dr. Dave” on different social broadcasting sites. I first ran into this walking pile of fly attractant a few years ago, and be damned if he didn’t surface again last Friday. In order to explain how I discovered this useless jackoff was the lowest form of life, we have to go back, far back in time and into the dark, dim recesses of the internet. Yes, we have to visit the days of BlogTV.

Once upon a time, there was this internet thing. It went by the name of BlogTV. Those of you who are reading this were probably there. For those of you who are unfamiliar with BlogTV, do a search on the web for “social broadcasting”, click on some of the links, then go visit your local mental health center.

One night, I am doing a show on BlogTV and some random user comes in, makes a comment about the music being played, and sticks around for a while to listen. After a few more tracks are played, he comments that my material is scrumtrulescent in all ways (these are my words, obviously). He asks where I am streaming the music from. I explained that I did not rely on 3rd party sources for material, that everything I played was sitting on one of my hard drives. I then put a link in chat that connected him to my world-famous SPREADSHEET OF TUNA. This random user seemed to be in disbelief at the number of tracks I had (at the time it was around 25-26K). I let him know that he could call out anything on that spreadsheet and it would be the next song up.

Mr Random User introduces himself as “Dave” from Beeville, Texas. Dave says he is unemployed, says he has a background in electronics, says he did some engineering work in radio and TV after he left the service, says he was a helicopter service technician in the service. He says the current job prospects in Beeville are dim. He asks me if I do regular shows on BlogTV, I tell him that I do random shows under my user ID, I do regular shows on a BlogTV channel called “1BlogRadio”, which is a collaborative  music channel made up of many many people who do shows covering a wide variety of musical genres. After a few more tracks, Dave says goodbye and off he goes.

A few days later, Dave is “on the air” on BlogTV playing his mainstream/AOR music. He becomes a fairly regular channel on the “Who’s On” menu, which makes sense. He’s got nothing else to do, BlogTV also gave him people to talk to and it kept him off the mean streets of Beeville. Just another guy, playing tunes, chatting with folks that drop into to listen…

…and then. One night I am channel hopping and I go into Dave’s channel. He is on camera in a US Air Force class A shirt with full colonel insignia on the collars, 5, maybe 6 rows of ribbons on his chest and the son of a bitch is telling one of the chatters he is a RETIRED FULL COLONEL from the UNITED STATES AIR FORCE.

Now I have to insert a bit of background about me at this point of my story. My old man spent 30 years in the US Army. He was a real bird colonel, he was a combat officer in 3 wars. His class A uniform had 3 (three) rows of ribbons. More to the point, I was born and raised on Army bases from Fort Leavenworth, Kansas to Berlin, Germany. I spent my entire childhood, from birth to 18 years of age, surrounded by scores and scores of soldiers of all ranks, from the Spec 4 who ran the cash register at the PX to a division commander who was a MoH winner in WWII. I FUCKING WELL KNOW WHAT A UNIFORM LOOKS LIKE. Seeing 6 rows of ribbons on anyone’s class A shirt… that is just beyond rare.

So I log in to Dave’s channel, and immediately type into chat “That’s an awful lot of fruit salad you have on your chest there.”  Dave’s right hand immediately comes up and covers the ribbons. Then his camera goes black, then his channel goes off the air. Approximately two minutes later, his channel comes back up, and Colonel Dave is now wearing a T-Shirt.

I had further brushes with Col. Dr. Dave during the BlogTV era. (If you want details, catch me on Friday night during my show and I will bloviate endlessly about them.) He eventually showed up at 1BlogRadio and talked his way into that. His non-stop bullshit eventually motivated numerous good broadcasters to leave. Dr. Dave hooked up with RadioRockCafe and made them rue the day they met him. Dave’s highly elastic notions of truth and honesty have made him “friends” everywhere he goes.

When Dave is pressed about his show with the uniform, he flatly denies it ever happens. When he is presented with the details, he then declares it was all a joke. It never happened, and it was a joke. Right, Dave. Gotcha.

I heard that some woman in Canada fell for Dave’s on-air bullshit and invited him to the great white north, where they became husband and wife. I honestly thought no one could be that stupid. I was mistaken.

This past Friday, the obese mole-faced woman who was actually stupid enough to marry Dave (and hey, I guess I should thank her for getting his fat, lying, honor-stealing ass out of my country) came into my show on CamUpTV under a guest account and wanted to know why “Katz123” was banned. I told this Guest that I had never heard of Katz123. I asked this guest if Katz123 had other user names (CamUpTV is good for that, bans are IP based, so if you get banned under one account name, it auto-bans all your user IDs), the guest said nooooooo (which now made it obvious I was talking to Katz123). I asked Katz… er, I mean I asked the guest if they shared an IP with one of the 3 accounts I did have banned, the guest changed the subject. After my show was done I donned my internet cloak of invisibility and entered Dr. Dave’s channel and confirmed my suspicions:  Katz123 is Mrs Dr. Dave. I jumped from my chair and rushed to take a shower.

So the wages of trolling are reminding me about this story, and getting me to write it down where hopefully ones of people will read it.

Dave is a thief. He is the worst kind of thief. He sought to take honor that he did not earn and was not worthy to bear. He is scum and it is best that he remain in another country. Should I find that he has returned to the US in general and Texas in particular, I will personally alert every VFW chapter, every American Legion post, the DAV chapters, dude, I will fucking call the American Red Cross.

A walking pile of shit. That says it all.

 

Buffoonery

Getting old sucks. For most people your body rejects your normal functions.  Many find they can’t drink coffee anymore or eat pizza like they used to.  When one wakes up their body aches and muscles are stiff.  Oh and I almost forgot the need to urinate all the time. Sleep habits are totally messed up and sometimes gaining weight is easier than breathing.  Let’s not forget about the multiple medications and vitamins that are required by the doctors and pharmaceutical companies.  I keep saying the word forget, oh yeah, we forget things as we get older.

I hate the idea of getting old.  To clarify, I don’t fear death but the process of my body getting closer to death is what I fear.  This fear has brought me to my current stance on getting old.  I believe when one reaches a certain age we should get a card from the government that states we can receive certain pharmaceuticals.  Think about it, when we reach a certain age we are allowed to drive legally.  We get a little older then we can drink legally.  What happens after that?  From what I’ve seen all we get after that is a discount on food and certain things when we look old enough to pass for a senior citizen.  There is a lot of time between drinking age and becoming a senior citizen!  This is where my idea comes into play.  Let’s say at 55, sounds like a good age, you get a card that allows you to get weed for free.  Even the drug dealers on the corner have to respect the card and give you weed for free.  Yes, this is stupid but you are going to keep reading because you have become intrigued.  Then at 65 you get another card that still allows weed but maybe you can have LSD.  Again, even your local street dealer has to respect the card and just hand it over to you. When reaching 70 and up you get new cards that allow more serious drugs.  My idea is still in it’s infancy and the entire idea is all buffoonery but lets keep going.  At 70, now many are retiring, if they give up their drivers license and car they get straight up coke.  Their only means of transportation is a bicycle and a skateboard.  Imagine a bunch of 70 year old people riding bikes on coke.  As people age closer to 80 and 90 they should get a card for heroin and other hard pharmaceuticals.

Think about it, if you are 80 and high on heroin you won’t care if you pooped your pants because your body hates you drinking coffee.  You won’t care if your bones crack as you fall out of your chair.  You won’t care if you lost your false teeth, or your kids or grand-kids don’t come to visit.

Buffoonery is a good word for this post.  I hope you all got a laugh out of it.

Can’t sleep, clowns will eat me.

I am aflutter.

After kicking the can up the road (down the road?) for nearly a year, I am headed to The Big City tomorrow to get something that I have lusted over for some time.

Once upon a time I was asked what my dream guitar was. I had to give two answers, because electrics and acoustics really are different animals. Tomorrow I am going to see if I can “do the deal” to get the acoustic guitar of guitars, the holiest of the holy, that which I fell in love with the moment I saw my first one. To be sure, there are more expensive guitars available – much more expensive. To be sure, there are fans of other brands that will spit on my shadow and curse me for a brainless git. I’m okay with that. I too have been known to have what some would call “firm” opinions on certain matters. I understand. I know people who have stated they would rather have a bad Gibson than a perfect (insert name of any other brand here). I suspect that statement contains a certain amount of hyperbole, but brand loyalty is something I understand and respect.

One size does not fit all. It never has and it never will.

I think the single finest sounding acoustic I have ever listened to was a Gibson Hummingbird made in the early 1960s that was in the hands of a guy who lived in a dorm room a few doors down from me. He is now the department chairman of the school of music at that university. Of course, this was in the day of long hair and non-prescriptive pharmacopeia, so my memory is highly suspect (see what I did there?). Over one summer break he took another guy that lived in that same dorm off to “his” guitar shop, and the following fall semester Slick (I have no idea what his real name is/was, he was universally addressed as “Slick”) had a Martin D28 in his possession. It complimented the Hummingbird beautifully. It was somewhere during this time frame when I got an invite to go see Jesse Colin Young at WFU and there was this guy named Leo Kottke as the opening act, and if you have seen Leo in person, then you know what I mean. To see Leo play is to witness something that is probably not entirely of this earth. I am pretty sure Leo hails from some plant where the sole form of communication is guitar.

One thing I picked up on pretty quickly was that the hands holding the guitar* are by far and away the most important element in the sound of the guitar. Just a couple of weeks ago, I watched a man pick up a $200 Yamaha and make that fucker ring out like… words fail me. I wish you could have been there. The point of this is that while he normally plays instruments that cost 20 times or more than that Yamaha, he did not appear to be limited in any way, shape or form in producing the most wondrous music. In point of fact, if you are looking to buy a guitar for yourself or another to learn on, give some very serious consideration to Yamaha (that goes for the electrics also, the Pacifica series guitars are bargains). The beginner will not have to fight with a poorly constructed turd and if they decide that guitaring is not for them, they can recover some of their money out of it.

Anyway, I am headed south to see if I can bring a Taylor 514ce limited edition back home. It’s got a flame mahogany back and some fancy fret inlays and some outrageously smooth Gotoh tuners (21:1 ratio, baby)and that unspeakably sexy Florentine cutaway. In that dream guitar photo, it’s the one on the right. Pics shall be forthcoming if it is here tomorrow evening.

 

*Look at this video of Billy Gibbons and some friends playing “La Grange“. At 4:22 in the video, Mike Henderson, who is playing a fucking $150 Squier Telecaster (Fender’s in-house knock off brand of their own stuff) just absolutely puts on a jaw-dropping clinic on How. Its. Done. It ain’t the equipment, it’s who is holding the equipment.

EDIT: Mission accomplished. pics: http://mullarea.com/guitars/Taylor/

 

 

Asking the Hard Questions

As is widely known across the blogosphere, PremiumHogwash is justly famous for its on-the-scene brigade of correspondents. Today, we have asked Our Man on Wall Street what his thoughts are about the ongoing trial of “Sexy” Chris While and the potential impact this may have on the spirituous liquors industry in Great Britain. What he has to say may sending you running to your telephone to place an emergency call to your broker.

In a nutshell, we were referred to this shocking graphic, showing what happened to the stock price of Anheuser-Busch Inbev SA (NYSE:BUD) (commonly known to most readers as “Budweiser”) when the undisputed queen of VaughnLive, Vikki70, passed away from causes unknown.

As you can see, the stock price of BUD nose-dived and has never fully recovered. It is rumored that the Budweiser distributor in Dallas, Georgia had to file for bankruptcy protection under Chapter 11.

It is estimated that Vikki personally consumed upwards of 62% of all the Budweiser sold in the continental United States. With her passing, entire breweries were thrown out of work and BUD ultimately had to reduce its workforce by 38% over the next 2 years.

And this brings us now to Christopher While, who is currently “on the dock” in England for various infractions against civilized behavior.

Mr. While may be known to some of you. He is the uncontested champion of the British Isles when it comes to alcohol consumption. On any single evening, Mr While will consume enough liquor, beer, ale, lager, cider and wines both fortified and defenseless to allow the HMS Ambush to submerge to a depth of 500 feet. His consumption is simply remarkable.

Therefore the market is watching his trial with much apprehension. Should he be incarcerated, it is feared the entire adult beverage market in the United Kingdom would suffer a financial blow that could be equated to Armageddon. We reached out to spokespersons of several famous distilleries in the UK, their responses ranged from tight-lipped “no comments” to actually bursting into tears and having to be lead away by corporate minders.

PermiumHogwash will keep a close eye on this developing story from the green and sceptred isle and keep our readers abreast of any new developments.

Stoned, again

When the Lord God Almighty created Adam, he made one single, dreadful mistake. He gave Adam sphincters.

Now I know most of you people smirk whenever you hear or see that word. “Sphincter” has become synonymous with the butthole, that much beloved terminus of the human digestive experience. In point of fact, the human body is packed full of sphincters. They are little rings of muscle tissue that act to open and close access to various tubes and pathways throughout our bodies, what the medical profession refers to as our “innards”.

According to the idiots at Wikipedia, there are OVER 9000 of the damn things opening and snapping shut inside of you right now. Sadly, some of those sphincters are stationed along the path from your kidneys to your bladder. When, in the course of human events, a collection of dilithium crystals and half consumed tootsie rolls accumulates in your kidneys and forms what we laughably refer to as a “stone”, the sphincters are ill equipped to deal with them (think in terms of trying to poop a watermelon). The stone continually bumps up against the sphincter seeking its sweet freedom, and this leads to a by-product scientists refer to as “pain”. Pain really is just inadequate word for the sensation. It should be some as-of-yet undiscovered word such as Marmahyperduqueallionesqueamundo. It is a pain so intense that one of the symptoms of kidney stones is nausea. Yes indeed, it hurts so bad you start to dry heave. Another symptom is calling out to various deities and asking them various questions of a sometimes scatological nature.

So having a stone trying to push its way out is painful enough, but not all stones are created equally. No sir. There are tiny stones and there are stones so large that it is simultaneously laughable and horrifying to see them. There are smooth stones and there are stones that are a collection of razor sharp edges that will slice open any tissue they happen to bump up against. And then….. there are these monsters:

Behold the monster called the Staghorn stone. Imagine trying to piss one of those bastards out. They don’t come out, not on their own. Someone goes in and takes them out.

Anyway, I am writing about this spooky shit because I was in the local ER the other night, again, with Senor Kidney Stone of the razor sharp variety. You should have seen what was coming out of me, but honestly, you don’t want to. Let’s just say that you can use “coca cola” as an adjective to describe urine, and be perfectly accurate. They shot me up with “the good shit” and gave me a mess of pills to eat, then sent me home to drink, drink, drink and piss that stone into the recesses of whatever porcelain convenience I happen to be near. So pass me another bottle of water, I’ll be here for awhile just drinking and peeing.

General Incoherence

HandsomeMork has become saddened by the fact that another blog has shut down with no warning or no reason behind it.  I read on a different blog it was due to “it’s the same train wrecks and no new content.’  I wonder why this has to be?  Why does a blog have to be about train wrecks?  Why are good casters not praised for being a good broadcaster?  Can’t we have positive praise in a wold full of hatemongers?  Yes that was the word of the day on my word of the day toilet paper. I felt the compulsion to use it; compulsion, word of yesterdays toilet paper. I digress.  My point is, we all go to various sites to watch, sometimes we watch train wrecks and sometimes we settle into our favorite casters.  The non-train wrecks still cast and people still go there yet there are no stories about them.  They are news worthy because they keep the sites going.  We all keep coming back, whether it’s waiting for a train wreck to go live or to actually enjoy the caster.  Whatever the case, they keep the sites alive.

Most older people I know find social broadcasting sites odd, yet the kids all know what they are.  Most kids I know want to be youtube sensations.  Social broadcasting is alive and well and becoming more and more the norm yet we only talk about the train wrecks.  I do find it funny that most kids want to become youtube sensations and make millions of dollars by being goofy or playing games.  I wished this blog would make me millions of dollars yet I will wait for my government check to come in. Which is what those kids will do if they don’t go out and get a job.

This post has makes no sense.  I just needed a reason to use my word of the day or else my trip to the bathroom was for naught.

Avocado Chicken Salad

I keep running across this recipe in all my social media accounts and was wondering what the big deal is.  This is by far one of the best chicken salad recipes I’ve tried.  This is the only chicken salad recipe I’ve tried, I’m not a big chicken salad eater.  I digress.  This looked interesting and I’m a fan of easy cooking so I though I would don my apron and get out my hand mixer.  Wait! That’s for a different post!

Back to avocado chicken salad.  Super easy, one bowl, let it sit over night and you will be amazed!  It smells wonderful and was even tastier.  If you don’t like it, I can’t help you.  Your taste buds are probably broken and you need to consult a doctor in my opinion.  Please take the sandwich with you when you see the doctor and record your visit for all of youtube to see.

 

 

2 cups shredded chicken
1 avocado chopped
1/2 tsp garlic powder
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp pepper
2 tsp lime juice
1 tsp fresh cilantro chopped
1/4 cup mayo  (I grew up with miracle whip, use what you like)
1/4 cup plain Greek Yogurt

Mix this all together and enjoy.  Again, let it sit over night and it’s even better.

Final product:

I joke.

This kid makes me laugh

There is a kid on VaughnLive who always gets banned;  I’ve been told his name is Irelands Patriot. I can neither confirm nor deny if he is a patriot.  I don’t care if he is a patriot.  I’ve seen him before on Vaughn under several different names because he always gets banned.  I find it funny that he gets banned every time he shows up on Vaughn. I’m not sure of the back story why he gets banned. I don’t care about the back story. I do know that the Vaughns don’t like him cause he gets banned every time he broadcasts. If you know the back story please keep that to yourself, please don’t waste your time trying to teach me anything.  I honestly don’t care.  I don’t even care what he says, I only watch him to see the ban hammer pound on him.

While I sit in anticipation of the ban hammer I wonder why this kid continues to cast on Vaughn when they clearly don’t want him there.  There are plenty of other sites, why not go to those?  I’ve concluded that he enjoys the negative attention  he gets with the ban hammer.  Maybe his thing is getting banned.  I know he is relentless in casting on Vaughn and to be banned and that combination makes me laugh.

I would address the TOS issues that I have not seen him violate but lets face it, TOS doesn’t really mean anything.  If the site owners don’t like you, you get TOSsed.  (see what I did there?)

 

The Road Not Taken

So this evening I went by Possibly The Worst Steaming Pile of Dog Vomit on the Internet and I couldn’t find any of that HTML5ness that the pseudo owner/boy genius/late model Honda collector promised everyone was going to be there by “the end of June”. To the surprise of exactly NO one, anywhere on the face of this planet, the grotesque abomination that sprang forth from the mercury poisoned loins of Patricia “Love Handles” Vaughn has once again delivered a self-inflicted gunshot to his immensely gout swollen feet. I suspect that by now he doesn’t even feel a thing.

One day I will write a pamphlet concerning my Unified Theory of the Vaughn Molecule and its place in our universe, but that’s not why I am here today. No sir.

I am here to talk about one of those streaming sites that I tried for awhile and moved on. Stream.me is a site that was started for and still mostly caters to Gamers of all shapes and sizes. Myself and a fellow miscreant of similar stripe approached the administrator of Stream.me and asked if they would have any issues with us doing our Rock-n-Roll thing on their site. They were very obliging about letting us set up shop and were “there when you needed them to be”, otherwise they left you alone. Hmmmm, that certainly is an intriguing model for running a social casting website.

The downside to Stream.me is one that many of you are familiar with: next to no traffic. Most people on Stream.me are dedicated to their particular games. From time to time someone would wander in to our channels, rarely that someone would actually deign to say hello, but for the most part you really had to pack your audience in with you. The opportunity for channel/viewer growth for a music oriented show was deemed to be very low.

Since we left, we observe that there has been some diversification of the content. There are music channels, a news feed or two, occasionally I will see what looks to be a live round table discussion format show.

For those of you in search of a out-of-the-way site to do some trial broadcasting, Stream.me might well be exactly what the doctor ordered.

(NOTE: I an not affiliated with, endorsed by, reimbursed, compensated, fed or given gratuitous hand jobs by anyone at Stream.me. I have no connection to them whatsoever, except as a former (semi-former? my channel is still there, but it hasn’t been used in many many moons) user.)

Saddened, I am

For reasons known only to Mrmacgregor, he has chosen to make the illustrious webcamwoodshed private, which means that common scrublords such as myself can no longer access its (admittedly sparse) contents. The link to access the chat box is here:

http://jtvshoutbox.chatango.com/

It is a good place to troll and be trolled.

What the world needs more of….

Attention, people of Earth (or Erf, for those of you who got a diploma because you aged out of the system).

PremiumHogwash has come into being to fill a void, a gap, a vast open zone of null created by Those Who Are No Longer Here (henceforth to be referred to as TWANLH). We are a professional group of citizens who have banded together to form the one true blog. Our area of bloginization (it’s a word now, damn it) will be social media, social media blogs and the authors that pertain thereto, food, music, culture, food (Hey, you already said food. Fuck off, I like food.), personal devices, humor, and animals (which brings us back to food).

PremiumHogwash is sparing no expense to bring you the latest in timely and informative news from around the globe. As of this writing, we have roving reporters stationed in Kula Lumpur, Tierra del Fuego, Constantinople, Kiribati and Bakersfield.

Best of all, we guarantee our blog information to be 100% accurate, unless it isn’t. You have our word on this.

Battle of the Network Stars Fail

While watching TV this past weekend I saw a commercial for the new Battle of the Network Stars.  I was excited to tune in; I watched this as a kid and enjoyed watching all my favorite actors and actresses battle it out in different competitions.  I especially liked the dunk tank because who doesn’t?  Back then I watched the original Wonder Woman Linda Carter, Michael J. Fox of Family Ties, Tony Danza of Who’s the Boss, and Lisa Welchel of Facts of Life who during that time were stars on high ranking TV shows.

So tonight I tuned in with hopes of seeing anyone from The Walking Dead (yes I was hoping to see Daryl kick some ass), Better Call Saul, Black-ish, Pretty Little Liars, American Horror Story just to name a few.  I was expecting to see a few from reality TV show contestants as a few of those peope have turned their 15 minutes of fame into stardom.  I was even expecting to see a Kardashian or two cause lets face it, I can’t watch anything without hearing or seeing them.  I was disappointed, no Daryl.  Not even a Kardashian, just a few old 80s-ish actors.  If I didn’t have pains in my body I would think I was a kid again.  The only thing I found of interest was Rhonda Rousey was a team captain.  So this is what she’s doing now team captain of a crappy television show?

Will I tune in next week to see Variety shows vs TV Sex Symbols?  I’m pretty sure I will as I am good at couch potato-ing.