Thursday, March 31, 2005

Hitting the Big 5-0

There's nothing like a "decade" birthday to make you assess and re-assess the past ten years and even look further back at the whole run. I run slap into fifty years of age the first part of next month and I've been planning my own birthday bash (if you want it right, do it yourself). Aside from the main, invite everyone I know throwdown on the beautiful Beaufort waterfront, I am having a small group of close friends for a pre-party cookout the night before and a dinner at a nice restaurant afterwards. I've been extremely blessed to have a diverse group of friends that have profoundly influenced the direction and quality of my life- fishing buddies, work buddies, bosses, mentors and great friends I have met through those people and have become quite close to. When I examine my list, it becomes clear that a single, momentous decision I made in 1991, (to change careers from lawyer to prosecutor), is solely responsible for placing these terrific people in my life's path. I am a firm believer in fate, but I also realize that in order for fate to work its magic, you have to be able to make life-altering changes and huge leaps of faith, sometimes on a moment's notice. When all your instincts kick-in and that little devil on your shoulder suggests that instead of choosing Path "A" or Path "B," you should say WTF and find the trailhead to Path "C," you've got to have the guts and the impetuousness to venture forward-and never, ever look back and question your choice. If it doesn't work out, regroup and move on. Life is a constant series of choices-some monumental, some inconsequential-the irony is that you will not know which is which until your life has played out. I have been very lucky that my instincts and my "no guts, no glory" mindset has served me well-so far!

Special Gus Davis Pack Available (Inside Joke)!

If you're gonna fool around with your mistress, don't piss her off

Human Depth Finder

Architectural Marvel in Holland

This is so bizarre, I can't even come up with a catchy title!

Your Honor, the Defendant had a "Shit-eating" Grin

Wednesday, March 30, 2005

I Think This Guy Taught Me in Law School

Tuesday, March 29, 2005

This is just WRONG!

Admit it-you laughed!

Monday, March 28, 2005

Carnival of the Cats

I'm allergic as hell to cats but I have two now and love both of them. A cat knows who is allergic to them and will purposely seek those people out-Mine sleep on my clothes, in my suitcase and always sleep on my side of the bed. Little bastards!

Sunday, March 27, 2005

Know Your History?

A great quiz game on the History Channel website-Click the link above for the home page, then under the heading "The Hot List," click on "Past Master" for the screen, then click on the game screen. For one or more players, it's quite addicting.

INSPIRATION

A great story about not quitting!

Simple Wisdom

If you ever wish you could have more time to get something done, just remember: if you did have more time, you wouldn't get more done. The extra time would melt away, and you'd be back feeling pressure to get it done in too little time. You might as well enjoy the free time and not moan about the things you didn't achieve. Idle moments at the dining table, talking about this and that, are much more your real life than all those grand accomplishments, achieved and unachieved.

Simple, yet profound by Ann Althouse.

The Alcohol Test

Saturday, March 26, 2005


Bright colors Posted by Hello

White flower Posted by Hello

Splash of color Posted by Hello

Close-up Posted by Hello

Early flowers Posted by Hello

Daffodils Posted by Hello

Spring is here! Posted by Hello

Friday, March 25, 2005

On the "Hot Seat"-Feisty Christina's Five Question Interview

Just got the questions from Feistygirl -it's now 11:30 P.M. EST. I grab a splash of Jack Daniels Green Label and a cold Bud Light to chase it with and it's off we go. I will first present the questions as posed, clear up any embarrassing hyperbole and false assumptions, then give my answers. It may be a little long-winded, but WTF-I have a law license and these drinks are tasting damn good.

1. YOU HAVE A VERY DISTINGUISHED LEGAL CAREER, AS WELL AS SERIOUS HOBBIES SUCH AS WOODWORKING, FISHING AND LISTENING TO DAMN GOOD LIVE MUSIC-HOW ON EARTH DID YOU GET INTO BLOGGING AND HOW DO YOU FIND THE TIME AND MATERIAL?
First, before my friends read the first 7 words and throw their heads back in a full-throated "horselaugh," let me clear that up first. I graduated from law school at Wake Forest Univ. in 1980 and for the next 11 years I was a mediocre general-practice street lawyer at best. I despised it for 10 years and 9 months and was about to place the gun barrel in my mouth when a good friend became the elected District Attorney and offered me a job-actually I begged him to give me one to get me the hell out of private practice.
Through some hidden trial talent, some great uber-talented mentors, some good fortune to be assigned some heinous cases and an ability to convey a sense of righteous indignation to a captive audience of 12 citizens, I have had a great run for almost 14 years as a career prosecutor. I believe that the innocent victims of crime deserve the best lawyers and I am proud to have represented their interests and put some despicable characters in prison or on the death row conveyor belt. I thank God for the talent and my co-workers and mentors for showing me the way.
In addition to the above hobbies, my other true passion is building custom fishing rods as viewers of my site can tell.

I got into blogging by being a fan of bloggers. I started reading a lot of politically diverse ones during the run-up to the presidential campaign and through the various sidebar links, I found others. I discovered that I enjoyed the non-political ones much more-in my opinion people take politics way too seriously-I'm certainly never gonna let the outcome of a presidential or gubernatorial race ruin my day for even a minute. I don't have kids so I have more than enough of time for blogging and all my other hobbies, even during court weeks. The only thing that stands in my way is a tendency to be lazy and procrastinate. As for material, a lot of it is shamelessly glommed and linked from other sites and some comes from my lifetime experiences. I don't read fiction because I find real life to be far more interesting-I admire those that can write fiction but I have never had the talent or attention span to make shit up out of whole cloth and tie it all together in the end. As you can also tell by scrolling through my archives, I'm also a big fan of the coastal area where I now live and I never tire of photos of birds, dolphins and fish. Plus it's a no-brainer way to post when I don't feel like typing.

2. IF YOU COULD ONLY DO ONE OF THE FOLLOWING FOR A LUCRATIVE CAREER (TO THE EXCLUSION OF THE OTHERS): LAW (PROSECUTION), WOODWORKING, FISHING AND FISHING ROD BUILDING, BLOGGING OR MUSIC BAND GROUPIE, WHICH WOULD IT BE AND WHY?

First of all, I am a male about to turn 50 in 6 weeks, so the term "band groupie," is a little troubling. I will take it to mean going places to hear live music and not assume it requires me to get on my knees backstage or in the bus after the show!
OK, now that that's cleared up, the answer is easy- Law (or in my case prosecution). I do that because I love the adrenaline rush of a verdict; the inherent theatrics, showmanship and gamesmanship of the trial; the power of standing up in front of a jury and a crowded courtroom and telling it like it is to a captive audience- and the daredevil in me craves the excitement of having 12 strangers watch you do your job and pass judgment on how well you did it, aware that at anytime during the trial there is always the remote possibility that I will publicly crash and burn. Plus the pay is good.
All the other passions mentioned are just that. I do them to stay somewhat sane. You should never confuse work with hobbies. If you make your living by doing your hobbies, the hobbies become a job and are not satisfying. When I was young, I loved to play golf. I got my dream job in a golf shop. I was around golf so much that when I got off work, the last thing in the world I wanted was to play golf or even see another golf ball. My passion had become my job and was no longer my passion. I'll stick with the law, thank you.

3. WHO WAS THE SINGLE BIGGEST INFLUENCE ON YOU WHEN YOU FIRST BEGAN BLOGGING AND WHY?
That's easy-it's always been James Lileks. I'm constantly amazed at his insight, his phrasing, his intellect, his humor and his daily output of high-quality writing. I wish I had a tiny bit of his immense talent.

4. DO YOUR REAL-WORLD, NON-CYBER FRIENDS KNOW ABOUT YOUR SITE? IF SO, WHAT IS THE TYPICAL REACTION TO YOUR BLOGGING ACTIVITIES?
I make sure they are aware, partly to make sure my Site Meter stats look good and because they are frequently mentioned in my own postings. Their usual reaction-"why don't you write less and just link to more funny shit!" I promise them a happy medium.

5. IF YOUR BLOG WERE A SONG, WHAT SONG WOULD IT BE?
What the hell is this? The Miss America Pageant?The answer probably would change weekly depending on what my mood is. Right now it would be the song, "Duct Tape" by a kick-ass Texas band called Buster Jiggs :


WELL ONCE I MET A RICH MAN,I WAS JUST SEVENTEEN,
SAID MISTER HOW'D YOU DO IT, YOU WERE BORN A POORMAN,
NOT TOO DIFFERENT THAN ME.
HE SAID "SON YOU'VE GOT TO WORK HARD ALL YOUR LIFE,
THEN THE GOOD LUCK WILL HIT YOU RIGHT BETWEEN THE EYES."

IT TAKES SOME DUCT TAPE AND SOME FISHING LINE,
CROSS YOUR FINGERS FOR THE FIRST TIME,
KICK OFF THE GROUND , THINK YOU'RE DOING GOOD,
WHEN IT ALL COMES CRASHING DOWN , YOU DID THE BEST YOU COULD.

I GOT A GOOD JOB IN A ROCK AND ROLL BAND,PLAYING MY GUITAR,
GOT AN OLD P.A. AND A RUSTED-OUT VAN,
I THINK WE'LL GO REAL FAR.
HE SAID "WHOA NOW SON, YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT A DIFFERENT LIFE,
BUT WHO KNOWS, THE GOOD LUCK COULD HIT YOU RIGHT BETWEEN THE EYES."

IT TAKES SOME DUCT TAPE AND SOME FISHING LINE,
CROSS YOUR FINGERS FOR THE SECOND TIME,
KICK OFF THE GROUND, THINK YOU'RE DOING GOOD.
WHEN IT ALL COMES CRASHING DOWN, YOU DID THE BEST YOU COULD.

THE MORAL OF THE STORY WILL ALWAYS RING TRUE,
WHEREVER YOUR PATH MAY LEAD,
A RICH MAN, POOR MAN, THE WRITER OF THE SONG,
A BOY OF SEVENTEEN

IT TAKES SOME DUCT TAPE AND SOME FISHING LINE,
CROSS YOUR FINGERS FOR THE THIRD TIME,
KICK OFF THE GROUND, THINK YOU'RE DOING GOOD.
WHEN IT ALL COMES CRASHING DOWN, YOU DID THE BEST YOU COULD

IT TAKES SOME DUCT TAPE AND SOME FISHING LINE,
CROSS YOUR FINGERS FOR THE VERY LAST TIME,
KICK OFF THE GROUND, THINK YOU'RE DOING GOOD
WHEN IT ALL COMES CRASHING DOWN YOU DID THE BEST YOU COULD.
WHEN IT ALL COME CRASHING DOWN, YOU DID THE BEST YOU COULD.

(Written by Brett Kastner/Knee Deep Music/BMI)

A great song by a great band!
Thanks for the questions Christina!

Random Fate

A great, serious site I just discovered. I have nothing to say about the Schiavo matter that would be as thoughtful and reasonable and profound as that expressed by Jack at Random Fate. The same goes for other so-called weighty matters which are really not that weighty or important in the grand scheme of things. Get some damn perspective on things and enjoy this short run on earth. Check the March 24 post, called ...on life, death and the tragedy of absolutes. And check out his other posts-agree or not, this is a talented writer. Bookmark the site or link it-I will.

Thursday, March 24, 2005

Proud to be a lawyer! The "Stella" Awards for 2004

Unbelievable Color photos from the fron in World War One

Tuesday, March 22, 2005

R-Rated Romance Novel Cover Spoofs

Slightly risque-Funny as Hell

More Romance Novel Cover Spoofs

Some of these are outstanding!

Romance Novel Cover Spoofs

What's in your food?

It's important to note that 25 grams of your ground paprika may by law contain an average 11 rodent hairs in addition to those 75 yummy insect fragments!

Sergei! Take that forearm out of your mouth!

Fish Tale-Tarpon takes angler on six-mile chase

Saudi Justice System in Action

Nighttime, Naked, Lawnmowing

Don't Like Your Job- Look at the Worst Jobs in History

Northern Michigan Darwin Award Nominee

You can find anything on Amazon also!

Sunday, March 20, 2005


New ultralight rod Posted by Hello

New ultralight rod Posted by Hello

Saturday, March 19, 2005


The littlest fan Posted by Hello

The boys tuning up. Posted by Hello

Ready to play Posted by Hello

Guy Clark Star Posted by Hello

Star of Walk of Fame Posted by Hello

Water Street Iceberg Wedge Posted by Hello

Outdoor patio area where free acoustic set to be played at 6:30 Posted by Hello

Club at dusk Posted by Hello

Water Street Entrees Posted by Hello

At Surf Club records. Posted by Hello

Friday, March 18, 2005

Wicked,Twisted Road, Part 3-Fishing Licenses, Dinner and the shows

Once we checked in and threw our stuff in the room, our plan was to buy our non-resident saltwater fishing licenses so we wouldn't waste valuable fishing time Saturday and Sunday doing that. I had a book on redfish with a list of flyshops and guides that gave me the name of a shop called Gruene Outfitters on Airline Dr. I had done my Mapquest searches prior to leaving and had directions from the airport to the flyshop, from the airport to the hotel and from the hotel to the flyshop. We made a couple of passes without seeing a sign so we decided to forego our inate male navigational skills, swallow our pride and ask directions. Scott ran into the open door of an art gallery and was told "that place hasn't been here for some time." Plan B-find a Wal-Mart. Airline Drive is outside the main downtown area but surrounded by strip malls, fast food joints-the landscape almost screamed "there's a Wal-Mart close-by." It took a few minutes but we spotted that familiar blue sign and made our way toward it. For some reason, there seemed to be no access to the damn thing. We cut across a field and down some pothole path and ended up at the garden center entrance. Jostling our way through the crowd inspecting flats of tomato plants we got to the main part of the store, took a right and found the sporting goods section. We were the only ones at the checkout except for the cashier. We told him what we wanted-a 2 day, non-resident saltwater license. It was $30.00- 22.00 for the first day and $8.00 for the additional day. The Texas Parks and Wildlife Commission has established a statewide centralized computer system to make the license process quick and easy. The last sentence is true except for the last eight words which are damn lies. The computers and the terminals are state of the art-the only thing wrong is they obviously were placed in thousands of locations and not one freakin' clerk was given a second of instruction on how to use the damn things. My Wal-Mart transaction went like this:

Clerk: "May I have your driver's license?" (I comply and he punches some numbers into a machine and hands me back my license).
Clerk: "What is your Social Security number?" (I cheerfully give up my 9 digit code and he punches the numbers into the machine). He then stares at the machine for what seems an eternity but was actually only 15 minutes. He looks puzzled and doesn't look up except to wave to a blue-smocked co-worker who keeps walking by and shaking his head as if he knows something we don't. Another request-
Clerk: "What is your phone number?' (Thinking this is the final bit to the license puzzle I give it up). He types it into the machine and another interminable wait begins. Scott and I trade puzzled looks. The clerk keeps tapping more keys on the machine). Then we regress.
Clerk: "May I have your driver's license again." ( I grudgingly give it up for one more try)

The entire above scene is repeated. Same exact demands, same exact puzzled look, same co-worker walking by shaking his head. Again, nothing comes out of the machine. His next next words bring out the smart-ass in me.

Clerk: "May I have your driver's license?"

Me: "What are the chances that if I give you my driver's license this time, it will actually do any freakin' good." He is honest.

Clerk: " Not very good. I really don't know how this machine works." Thanks, chief! We're out of here.

We go back to the motel hoping the clerk there can direct us to a license dealer. He says that all the Circle K stores have the machines. It's getting close to 3:30-we haven't eaten lunch yet and we haven't licensed-up yet but at least we're not pressed for time. We decide to cab it down to the Executive Surf Club where the music will be, and on the way, we can have the cabbie run us by a Circle K to get the fishing licenses. The cabbie picks us up and heads downtown. We tell him the plan and he takes us to the Circle K. We go in and I am again the license "guinea pig." I step up to the counter, make my request and a call goes into the back. A woman I assume is the license clerk comes out after about five minutes. At the time we go in there is one guy in there buying a drink and he is waited on by the regular clerk. By the time the woman comes out of the back to wait on us, the regular line has grown to about 20 people. Cars are pulling in and out of the parking lot like it was Penn Station at rush hour. There are about 6 clerks behind the counter. Four of them are doing absolutely nothing. The regular clerk is busier than a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest with his line growing by the minute. Our woman takes my license, asks for my SSN and my phone number and pounds the numbers into the machine. Nothing happens. The meter on the cab is chewing up minutes and money. She again asks for my SSN and phone number, having kept my license the first time and again she types something into the machine and waits....and waits. I ask her for my license back and she pretends not to hear me. I finally have to raise the stakes-"Listen, I've been paying a cabbie to sit in the lot for 20 minutes while you play with that machine, give me my damn license back. When she hands it back to me and before I leave, the regular clerk looks at says "I don't think she knows what she is doing." No shit!
It's back in the cab-he's a good sport and we jokingly accuse him of being in cahoots with the Circle K wench to run up the fare. Two minutes later we are at the Executive Surf Club where we meet Sue who runs Surf Club Records-she is the one who has our concert tickets on hold. Sue is a 53 year old, five-foot tall redheaded spitfire of a woman who loves the fact we flew out from the east coast to see Reckless Kelly. We get our tickets and go next door to Water Street Oyster Bar for our first meal of the day.
First order of business-"2 Shiner Bock Drafts!"
"Dressed?" the waitress asks.
"What does that mean?"
"It means it comes with a lime and the glass rim is salted." Sounds like a beer margarita. We bite and order two. Never again- I can't think of a quicker way to ruin a good beer. Maybe there's a special trick to drinking it like a tequila shot, but I doubt it would help much.
We order the pecan-encrusted fried oyster appetizer. Scott gets a regular salad and I get the "Wedge." one-quarter of a head of iceberg lettuce with tomatoes and dressing. I get mine with red wine vinaigrette, something the waitress has never seen ordered before. It's big and pretty, the dressing gives it a distinct orange hue- a color I had not seen often but would see too often the next day. For entrees, Scott gets a pecan-encrusted fish of some sort and I get grilled shrimp wrapped in bacon. Excellent food but we're too excited about the show to eat all of it. Three more regular Shiner Bocks each later and we're out the door. It's about 5:30-one hour before showtime.

Wicked, Twisted Road-Part 2 (Friday, March 11, 2005)

To say I am a nervous flyer would be a gross understatement. I like to be in control of situations and being 35,000 feet up in the air at the mercy of someone else is not my idea of a good time. I also read a lot and tales of pilots forgeting to de-ice planes or forgetting the landing gear or mechanics forgetting to attach the wings correctly bounce around in my brain come time to fly. I also imagine the pilot being either drunk or incompetent and the co-pilot being about 14 years old. I went to law school with at least 10 people who I wouldn't let handle a speeding ticket and I'm sure that there are jet pilots not fit to fly a glider-these are the one's I'm certain are at the controls everytime I fly. I imagine trying to "breathe normally" if one of those masks dropped down onto my head. I know that those "bell-like" tones are secret messages of impending doom and everytime I hear one I make eye contact with the flight crew to detect any sign of panic. When I board a plane, I like to see plenty of babies and small children-not because I like their crying and catterwauling, but because I don't think the good lord would let a plane full of innocent babies crash. Conversely, if the plane appears to be a cylindrical "God's Waiting Room," filled with inactive seniors, I am certain that a crash is imminent. That is why the first things on my list to pack are booze and a flask. If I go down, I will not go down sober.
On Friday I got to the airport about 7:30 A.M. for my 9:15 A.M. flight. I left my car in the park and ride, smartly took a digital photo of my Lot (D-1), and dragged my suitcase over the curb and into the shuttle shelter. I checked in at the new self-serve kiosk and was happy to find my boarding passes gave me a window seat. I checked my suitcase and headed toward the TSA area with my backpack. As instructed, I took off my shoes and emptied my pockets of any metal objects such as coins. When ordered to come through the electronic arch, I caused a loud beeping noise and drew a dirty look from the guy behind me. I forgot I had not removed my belt, because I rarely wear one with jeans. I took my belt off and made another attempt through the arch. Another loud beep and I became "suspected terrorist and U.S. public enemy number one." I was unceremoniously "culled from the herd" and was ordered to sit behind a sinister looking glass wall in what I later called the "chair of shame." I was told to give up whatever metal object I was concealing, so I emptied my pockets. Out came a pack of foil-backed anti-histamine tablets, which were found to be the culprit. That however did not bring my freedom. A nice but serious TSA employee had me stand on some painted footprints on the carpet while he ran a wand over me from head to toe. Pursuant to his orders, I raised my arms, lowered my arms, spread my legs and closed my legs so he could run the wand over every crook and crevice, while a steady line of "safe" passengers glared at me as if I was Bin Laden himself. Once through, I thanked him for his thoroughness and made my way to the gate, "bloodied, but not bowed."

On the short hop from Raleigh to Atlanta, I was in the last row-fortunately that was where the drink cart was situated and I found myself pulling out the flask about 9:45. A splash of Jack Daniels into a cup of Diet Coke and ice made the flight completely tolerable. In Atlanta, the device called the "JetWay," which is the passenger boarding bridge which connects the aircraft door to the terminal was stuck out of place and took about 15 minutes to fix. My connection time was only about 45 minutes to begin with and the Atlanta airport is a well-known "zoo." Scott met as I came off of the plane and we got on the shuttle to Terminal C to catch the commuter flight to Corpus Christi. I've heard horror stories about these little jet planes but the few times I've been on one, the trip has been superb. This plane was literally brand new-the outside sparkled and the inside was spotless. It was so new that they hadn't even had time to put in those airline magazines that all look the same. We took off from Atlanta about 11:15 A.M. for the 2 and a half hour flight to the southern Texas gulf coast. The red clay of northwest Georgia and northeast Alabama soon gave way to the darker soil of the Mississippi delta. We skirted the Gulf of Mexico for the last hour of the flight and the view was spectacular. Dozens of rivers snaked down to empty into the Gulf and orange flames lit up the thousands of oil rigs that scattered around in the cobalt water. Another round of toddies and we were on "terra firma" before we knew it. We were in the rental car on the way to the motel by 1:30 P.M. central standard time. We had three hours to kill-we wanted to be at the Executive Surf Club by 4:30 so we could poke around in the record store, check out the concert facilities and grab a bite at the Water Street Oyster Bar adjacent to the club.

Lodging-Clean rooms, friendly staff-we never did find the free cocktails Posted by Hello

Side view of motel Posted by Hello

Taking picture of Scott before he could take one of me Posted by Hello

We're here-Corpus Christi International Posted by Hello

Part of Texas gulf coast Posted by Hello

Amazing coastline Posted by Hello