Begging The Question
Soup asked for a story from my days working as a packer for a hunting outfitter. I have several, but the really good stories I'd like to save until I have a chance to scan some photographs to accompany the post. For the time being, let me share some stories for which I have no visual aides.
One of the other new hires at the camp where I worked was a Yankee by the name of Dwayne. Dwayne was a recovering alcoholic, a burgeoning bow hunting guide, and very into "traditional" bow hunting. That is, he built his own bow and arrows from natural materials. Holistic hunting or something. I never really cared much for the idea, but it made Dwayne happy. What did not make Dwayne happy, however, was the prospect of riding a horse. The man had never been on a horse before, but seeing as how that was a requirement of the job, he exaggerated his experience rather than risk losing his place for the season.
Well, this story progresses as you know it must. Among the many horses on the ranch was a jet black stallion named Thunder. No lie. Beautiful horse, but aggressive and headstrong (not too surprising for a stallion). He was hell to round up each morning and was not easily saddled. One might have thought that Thunder was not even broke, he acted so wild sometimes. He spent most of his time alone in a round pen, separated from the other horses because he was constantly abusing the geldings and chasing the mares. Not exactly the ideal trail-riding horse, but no one asked my opinion on the matter.
For some reason, the ranch foreman decided that Dwayne would ride Thunder. I got stuck with a tiny little sad sack of a mustang that couldn't see out of one eye, but Yankee Dwayne got to saddle the widow maker. So, the first day Dwayne was to head out with us, he tied Thunder to the fence that enclosed the stable area and cautiously saddled his steed. After crossing himself a couple of times, Dwayne gingerly climbed up into the saddle. Poor guy had forgotten to untie the horse from the fence, though. I walked over and untied the lead rope and passed it up to Dwayne. The look on his face was that of sheer terror as he timidly took hold of the reins. I headed back to saddle my horse, and as I did I heard Wayne say "Okay boy, giddy up."
Thunder did not exactly acquiesce to that request in the manner Dwayne had hoped. At the command to giddy up, Thunder let out a bellow, turned on his hind legs, and took off at a dead sprint for his pen. His path to the round pen took horse and rider under the covered area (similar to the covered areas extending off the sides of the barns in these pictures) of the paddock where we fed and watered the horses. The roof of this area was about 8 feet off the ground and the supports of the roof were made of 6' x 6' solid wood beams. Dwayne was sitting tall, bouncing in the saddle, and shrieking at the top of his lungs. As Thunder headed for the covered area near the barn those of us nearby were yelling for Dwayne to duck. Sadly, our advice was of no avail to Dwayne. As Thunder raced under the roof, Dwayne made forehead-to-beam contact with a sickening "thunk". We heard that "thunk" twice more before Thunder exited the far side of the covered area, unaccompanied by young Dwayne. Thunder returned to his feed bucket in the round pen about the time we reached Dwayne, sprawled spread eagle in the mud, out cold, with so many deep cuts in his forehead it looked like someone had drawn a music staff across his head. The blood flowed like wine, and there was some concern that Dwayne might not make it. But he did, he pulled through. After about 40 stitches in his head and a couple days in the hospital, Dwayne was back at work. He never rode Thunder again, but to Dwayne's credit he acquitted himself well on his new steed - a dog food-factory reject that would have needed a Valium/Percoset pick-me-up to be considered dead.
I never suffered an injury so severe as Dwayne's but I was kicked by horses and mules more times than I can remember. I carry a reminder of the most severe kicking in the form of a nasty scar in my left shin.
One day in late summer, after we had rounded up the horses from their summer grazing, I was tasked with shoeing some of the animals. If you've never shoed a horse or seen it done, it is work for which a tall man is ill-suited. But my "colleagues" were none too eager to put their bodies in jeopardy leaned under the bodies of large, prone-to-kick animals. Looking back on it, I don't blame them.
To shoe a horse's back feet, you have to stand essentially under the horse's leg, lift his ankle up and hook his ankle between your knees. This way you have access to the horse's hoof. You use a scraping tool to clean any mud or debris from the hoof, then you use a long metal rasp to clean up the edges of the hoof, give it a nice shape, and even it out so that the horse shoe fits the hoof. Once the hoof is filed down, you use a hammer and very sharp nails to secure the shoe to the horse's hoof. The nails go through pre-made holes in the shoe and into the out edge of the horse's hoof. The nails are significantly longer than the width of the hoof, so you must use a pair of nippers to clip the pointed ends of the nails once they've gone through the hoof.
The area of the hoof into which you drive the nails is similar to the white part of your fingernail. There is no feeling in it, so you're not hurting the horse. However, a careless person can miss the mark and drive the nail into the soft, living part of the hoof (think of the flesh under your fingernail) and, naturally, a horse won't be pleased by the sensation.
Apparently, the horse I was working on had been conditioned to have nails driven into the quick of his hoof. He was very skittish and he jumped a little each time I touched his hoof. He was very good not to lean his weight onto my back and he never pulled his foot away from me, but it was clear that he did not enjoy the experience. He grew more anxious with each nail I drove into his hoof. On the third or fourth nail on his right foot, I drove the nail clean through with one hammer strike and this horse did not like that at all.
As I drove the nail home, the horse gave a little jump and kicked his foot forward as hard as he could. That kick had the unfortunate effect of driving the protruding end of the last nail through the skin between the index finger and thumb of my left hand, through the 1/2" thick rawhide chaps (Sebastian probably refers to them as "chinks") I was wearing, through my jeans, and into my left shin. As a bonus, the nail broke off in my shin and the horse stepped on my right hand as I fell down. I scrambled out from under the big fella and checked for broken fingers. Finding none, I turned my attention to my bloody left hand. No real damage there. I then examined my leg. I had to remove the newly-perforated chaps, ignore the blood soaking through my pant leg, and use a pair of pliers to pull the broken-off piece of horseshoe nail out of my shin. Good golly Miss Molly did that hurt. It hurt much worse coming out than it did going in, but after a couple of pulls on a bottle of Wild Turkey, a gauze pad and some tape I was (mostly) as good as new. I'm sure that horse is wearing different shoes now, but I'm still wearing the scar he gave me.
One of the other new hires at the camp where I worked was a Yankee by the name of Dwayne. Dwayne was a recovering alcoholic, a burgeoning bow hunting guide, and very into "traditional" bow hunting. That is, he built his own bow and arrows from natural materials. Holistic hunting or something. I never really cared much for the idea, but it made Dwayne happy. What did not make Dwayne happy, however, was the prospect of riding a horse. The man had never been on a horse before, but seeing as how that was a requirement of the job, he exaggerated his experience rather than risk losing his place for the season.
Well, this story progresses as you know it must. Among the many horses on the ranch was a jet black stallion named Thunder. No lie. Beautiful horse, but aggressive and headstrong (not too surprising for a stallion). He was hell to round up each morning and was not easily saddled. One might have thought that Thunder was not even broke, he acted so wild sometimes. He spent most of his time alone in a round pen, separated from the other horses because he was constantly abusing the geldings and chasing the mares. Not exactly the ideal trail-riding horse, but no one asked my opinion on the matter.
For some reason, the ranch foreman decided that Dwayne would ride Thunder. I got stuck with a tiny little sad sack of a mustang that couldn't see out of one eye, but Yankee Dwayne got to saddle the widow maker. So, the first day Dwayne was to head out with us, he tied Thunder to the fence that enclosed the stable area and cautiously saddled his steed. After crossing himself a couple of times, Dwayne gingerly climbed up into the saddle. Poor guy had forgotten to untie the horse from the fence, though. I walked over and untied the lead rope and passed it up to Dwayne. The look on his face was that of sheer terror as he timidly took hold of the reins. I headed back to saddle my horse, and as I did I heard Wayne say "Okay boy, giddy up."
Thunder did not exactly acquiesce to that request in the manner Dwayne had hoped. At the command to giddy up, Thunder let out a bellow, turned on his hind legs, and took off at a dead sprint for his pen. His path to the round pen took horse and rider under the covered area (similar to the covered areas extending off the sides of the barns in these pictures) of the paddock where we fed and watered the horses. The roof of this area was about 8 feet off the ground and the supports of the roof were made of 6' x 6' solid wood beams. Dwayne was sitting tall, bouncing in the saddle, and shrieking at the top of his lungs. As Thunder headed for the covered area near the barn those of us nearby were yelling for Dwayne to duck. Sadly, our advice was of no avail to Dwayne. As Thunder raced under the roof, Dwayne made forehead-to-beam contact with a sickening "thunk". We heard that "thunk" twice more before Thunder exited the far side of the covered area, unaccompanied by young Dwayne. Thunder returned to his feed bucket in the round pen about the time we reached Dwayne, sprawled spread eagle in the mud, out cold, with so many deep cuts in his forehead it looked like someone had drawn a music staff across his head. The blood flowed like wine, and there was some concern that Dwayne might not make it. But he did, he pulled through. After about 40 stitches in his head and a couple days in the hospital, Dwayne was back at work. He never rode Thunder again, but to Dwayne's credit he acquitted himself well on his new steed - a dog food-factory reject that would have needed a Valium/Percoset pick-me-up to be considered dead.
I never suffered an injury so severe as Dwayne's but I was kicked by horses and mules more times than I can remember. I carry a reminder of the most severe kicking in the form of a nasty scar in my left shin.
One day in late summer, after we had rounded up the horses from their summer grazing, I was tasked with shoeing some of the animals. If you've never shoed a horse or seen it done, it is work for which a tall man is ill-suited. But my "colleagues" were none too eager to put their bodies in jeopardy leaned under the bodies of large, prone-to-kick animals. Looking back on it, I don't blame them.
To shoe a horse's back feet, you have to stand essentially under the horse's leg, lift his ankle up and hook his ankle between your knees. This way you have access to the horse's hoof. You use a scraping tool to clean any mud or debris from the hoof, then you use a long metal rasp to clean up the edges of the hoof, give it a nice shape, and even it out so that the horse shoe fits the hoof. Once the hoof is filed down, you use a hammer and very sharp nails to secure the shoe to the horse's hoof. The nails go through pre-made holes in the shoe and into the out edge of the horse's hoof. The nails are significantly longer than the width of the hoof, so you must use a pair of nippers to clip the pointed ends of the nails once they've gone through the hoof.
The area of the hoof into which you drive the nails is similar to the white part of your fingernail. There is no feeling in it, so you're not hurting the horse. However, a careless person can miss the mark and drive the nail into the soft, living part of the hoof (think of the flesh under your fingernail) and, naturally, a horse won't be pleased by the sensation.
Apparently, the horse I was working on had been conditioned to have nails driven into the quick of his hoof. He was very skittish and he jumped a little each time I touched his hoof. He was very good not to lean his weight onto my back and he never pulled his foot away from me, but it was clear that he did not enjoy the experience. He grew more anxious with each nail I drove into his hoof. On the third or fourth nail on his right foot, I drove the nail clean through with one hammer strike and this horse did not like that at all.
As I drove the nail home, the horse gave a little jump and kicked his foot forward as hard as he could. That kick had the unfortunate effect of driving the protruding end of the last nail through the skin between the index finger and thumb of my left hand, through the 1/2" thick rawhide chaps (Sebastian probably refers to them as "chinks") I was wearing, through my jeans, and into my left shin. As a bonus, the nail broke off in my shin and the horse stepped on my right hand as I fell down. I scrambled out from under the big fella and checked for broken fingers. Finding none, I turned my attention to my bloody left hand. No real damage there. I then examined my leg. I had to remove the newly-perforated chaps, ignore the blood soaking through my pant leg, and use a pair of pliers to pull the broken-off piece of horseshoe nail out of my shin. Good golly Miss Molly did that hurt. It hurt much worse coming out than it did going in, but after a couple of pulls on a bottle of Wild Turkey, a gauze pad and some tape I was (mostly) as good as new. I'm sure that horse is wearing different shoes now, but I'm still wearing the scar he gave me.
Friday, June 03, 2005
A round-up of random things that didn't rate separate posts.
1. Q&A with BTQ
Via the magic of the internets, the citizens of the world have access to an unimaginable wealth of knowledge. But do they take advantage of that collective knowledge? Heavens no. They come to us with their queries. Well, if you're going to ask a question of a stupid person, you're going to get a stupid answer. And so,
The song/blog project is in the works. I'm still trying to listen to each song. Only recently have I been able to persuade the resident music nerd to help me arrange the songs in order. Look for it in the next day or two.
3. My TiVo thinks I'm gay!
From the department of "Signs that my life may not be headed in the direction," the following are actual subject headers on several recent emails sent to me:
4. What happened to my co-blogger?
Hopefully Nataliya will come in out of the cold soon. I had to spend months soothing Milbarge's ego before he was ready to return. One intemperate remark here and there and suddenly I'm branded as an a-hole and Milbarge drops out of blogging. The same thing may have been the reason why Nataliya is nowhere to be found. Yes, I insulted her in the E. McPan podcast, but I didn't meant to. I swear it. Sigh. Now she probably thinks I'm an a-hole. Come to think of it, since Neiman Marcus and Google think I am a woman, I guess that makes me a bitch, not an asshole.
1. Q&A with BTQ
Via the magic of the internets, the citizens of the world have access to an unimaginable wealth of knowledge. But do they take advantage of that collective knowledge? Heavens no. They come to us with their queries. Well, if you're going to ask a question of a stupid person, you're going to get a stupid answer. And so,
Q: How does jessica simpson squat barbell squat?2. The BTQ Experience feat. 50-Centinel.
A: I think the word you are looking for with regard to Jessica Simpson is "dumbbell." I swear there are some kinky people out there.
Q: Where are all the campground sluts?
A: Heh. Sounds like someone is gearing up for a summer vacation. Personally, I don't know any such ladies. But you find lot lizards in the truckstop parking lot (or so I've heard), so I am assuming you find the campground sluts at a campground. Good luck with all that.
Q: A prisoner or a lazy court-appointed appellate defender wants to know, "What are my chances of winning habeas 2255?"
A: Sorry to break it to you, but the outlook is not so good. The jury did its duty and convicted you and your attempts to undo justice are likely going to fail. And they probably should. After all, we all know you did it.
Q: What does it feel like to wear cheerleader skirts?
A: I have no idea. No idea. I never wore such a thing. Not even once. Not even just to see what it was like. Not even just to feel pretty for five minutes.
I did, however, wear form-fitting cheerleading shorts. Which brings us to our next question.
Q: i love fitz-hume. Aw shucks. *blushes* Or, maybe it was this question. Dammit! *blushes*
Q: Finally, what's the difference between hard and soft movies cinemax?
A: It's all soft, but Milbarge explained that the rule of thumb is that if you can't see their bits 'n' pieces it's soft core.
The song/blog project is in the works. I'm still trying to listen to each song. Only recently have I been able to persuade the resident music nerd to help me arrange the songs in order. Look for it in the next day or two.
3. My TiVo thinks I'm gay!
From the department of "Signs that my life may not be headed in the direction," the following are actual subject headers on several recent emails sent to me:
Super-hot dress trends: See what made the listConclusion: Neiman Marcus thinks I am a woman. You buy one pair of designer jeans and suddenly everyone starts questioning your manhood. Geez! Gmail thinks I am a woman, too, with its sponsored ads for purses, knickers, and jewelry pouring salt on the wound.
The Ultimate Swim Sale: 25%-70% Off Select Styles
Trendy embellished shoes, plus save during our Men's Sale
Summer's must-have tops: Slinky camis, sparkling tees, and more
Wild new handbags, in exotic snakeskin and luxe crocodile
Summer beauty: five ways to get gorgeous
The season's best dresses: See our favorites
Summer essentials: Full skirts, sunglasses, flat sandals
4. What happened to my co-blogger?
Hopefully Nataliya will come in out of the cold soon. I had to spend months soothing Milbarge's ego before he was ready to return. One intemperate remark here and there and suddenly I'm branded as an a-hole and Milbarge drops out of blogging. The same thing may have been the reason why Nataliya is nowhere to be found. Yes, I insulted her in the E. McPan podcast, but I didn't meant to. I swear it. Sigh. Now she probably thinks I'm an a-hole. Come to think of it, since Neiman Marcus and Google think I am a woman, I guess that makes me a bitch, not an asshole.
The questions are a little late today. Alarms didn't go off, snooze buttons were hit, people overslept. It happens. I apologize for the delay, but the upside is that readers contributed all of this week's questions. Enjoy!
1. From Janie Q: "How about your favorite tv show when you were a kid, and why hasn't it been remade into a movie, or if it has, how was that movie, or maybe it shouldn't be remade at all?"
We didn't have a television during my formative years, but once I was able to watch TV as an adolescent, I paid rapt attention to Andy Griffith and The Dukes of Hazzard. Barney Fife cracked me up, but certain elements of the Duke clan also kept me glued to the set. Besides, they had arrows with dynamite tips!
Andy Griffith will probably be made into a movie at some point with Will Farrell in the role of Andy Taylor and DJ Qualls in the role of Barney. I'm not pleased with the prospect.
The Dukes of Hazzard has been made into a movie. I have so little interest in Jessica Simpson I don't think science even has instruments capable of measuring my interest in her. And that goes double for her debut as an "actress." So she's a black mark against the movie as far as I am concerned. However, I love me some Johnny Knoxville and goddang I love Sean William Scott. Between those two, Burton Leon Reynolds, Jr. as Boss Hogg and the Redheaded Stranger as Uncle Jesse, I may be able to ignore the blight of Jessica Simpson and see the movie. Good chance the movie will suck, but there's nothing new about that.
2. Stag asks: "Tell us about your favorite vacation or your fav place to go on vacation."
I've never really been on a vacation. I know that's crazy, but it's true. I don't have any favorite vacations spots either, naturally, but there are 4 places I would really like to go some day: (1) Hawaii, (2) New Zealand, (3) the Dolomites in northern Italy, and (4) Patagonia. If I ever make it to any of those places, I'll post about it.
3. Soup inquires: "Are you a fan of Get Fuzzy?"
I am not a fan of the fuzz. I am not a fan of getting fuzzy - shaving is a pain in the neck (literally). And I am not a fan of "Get Fuzzy." I'm 30 years old. I don't read comic strips. Or comic books. Oh, excuse me, graphic novels. I'm sorry I used the wrong terminology. Go ahead, laugh it up, fuzzball.
4. Sebastian Haff has a burning desire to know: "[Which] celebrities [do] you think are most likely to pose in Playboy and why[?]"
Reading "celebrity" in the loosest sense, I would say that the obvious candidates are: Any contender from Survivor. Nicole Ritchie. Britannia. Victoria Beckham. Joe Rogan. Tracy Ullman. Nicole Kidman.
As to why? In the same order, I would say the obvious answers are: Why not? Why not? WWMD (What would Madonna do?)? She has a new album coming out. Fear Factor is losing its relevance. Why not? and Because she's flipping weird and nothing she does makes any sense.
5. Energy Spatula gets to the heart of the matter with the final question for the week: "Why don't you write about which one [Fitz-Hume or Milbarge] is a huge liar?"
Milbarge isn't so much a liar as he is more of "standards over rules" kind of guy. He's also of the Costanza frame of mind, "It's not a lie if you believe it." Thus, I don't think he would consider himself a huge liar.
Me? I don't know if "huge liar" describes me either. "Huge?" Maybe. Survey says, "Um, no." Dang. "Liar?" Maybe. I do not embellish the tales I post here, but I have more than once left out some details to paint some characters in a better light (mostly me) or to shade others a little less flatteringly (mostly Milbarge). Some characters have been left out entirely because BTQ has been edited for content and to run in the time allowed. If that makes me a liar, then so be it.
1. From Janie Q: "How about your favorite tv show when you were a kid, and why hasn't it been remade into a movie, or if it has, how was that movie, or maybe it shouldn't be remade at all?"
We didn't have a television during my formative years, but once I was able to watch TV as an adolescent, I paid rapt attention to Andy Griffith and The Dukes of Hazzard. Barney Fife cracked me up, but certain elements of the Duke clan also kept me glued to the set. Besides, they had arrows with dynamite tips!
Andy Griffith will probably be made into a movie at some point with Will Farrell in the role of Andy Taylor and DJ Qualls in the role of Barney. I'm not pleased with the prospect.
The Dukes of Hazzard has been made into a movie. I have so little interest in Jessica Simpson I don't think science even has instruments capable of measuring my interest in her. And that goes double for her debut as an "actress." So she's a black mark against the movie as far as I am concerned. However, I love me some Johnny Knoxville and goddang I love Sean William Scott. Between those two, Burton Leon Reynolds, Jr. as Boss Hogg and the Redheaded Stranger as Uncle Jesse, I may be able to ignore the blight of Jessica Simpson and see the movie. Good chance the movie will suck, but there's nothing new about that.
2. Stag asks: "Tell us about your favorite vacation or your fav place to go on vacation."
I've never really been on a vacation. I know that's crazy, but it's true. I don't have any favorite vacations spots either, naturally, but there are 4 places I would really like to go some day: (1) Hawaii, (2) New Zealand, (3) the Dolomites in northern Italy, and (4) Patagonia. If I ever make it to any of those places, I'll post about it.
3. Soup inquires: "Are you a fan of Get Fuzzy?"
I am not a fan of the fuzz. I am not a fan of getting fuzzy - shaving is a pain in the neck (literally). And I am not a fan of "Get Fuzzy." I'm 30 years old. I don't read comic strips. Or comic books. Oh, excuse me, graphic novels. I'm sorry I used the wrong terminology. Go ahead, laugh it up, fuzzball.
4. Sebastian Haff has a burning desire to know: "[Which] celebrities [do] you think are most likely to pose in Playboy and why[?]"
Reading "celebrity" in the loosest sense, I would say that the obvious candidates are: Any contender from Survivor. Nicole Ritchie. Britannia. Victoria Beckham. Joe Rogan. Tracy Ullman. Nicole Kidman.
As to why? In the same order, I would say the obvious answers are: Why not? Why not? WWMD (What would Madonna do?)? She has a new album coming out. Fear Factor is losing its relevance. Why not? and Because she's flipping weird and nothing she does makes any sense.
5. Energy Spatula gets to the heart of the matter with the final question for the week: "Why don't you write about which one [Fitz-Hume or Milbarge] is a huge liar?"
Milbarge isn't so much a liar as he is more of "standards over rules" kind of guy. He's also of the Costanza frame of mind, "It's not a lie if you believe it." Thus, I don't think he would consider himself a huge liar.
Me? I don't know if "huge liar" describes me either. "Huge?" Maybe. Survey says, "Um, no." Dang. "Liar?" Maybe. I do not embellish the tales I post here, but I have more than once left out some details to paint some characters in a better light (mostly me) or to shade others a little less flatteringly (mostly Milbarge). Some characters have been left out entirely because BTQ has been edited for content and to run in the time allowed. If that makes me a liar, then so be it.
A loyal and longtime reader emailed BTQ requesting a homemade salsa recipe. Being the generous person that I am, I picked three of my favorites. I don't remember where these recipes came from, but I use them often. There's really no substitute for fresh, homemade salsa and there's no excuse for eating store-bought salsa. These recipes are easy and delicious. Plus, serving homemade salsa is a great way to impress your guests.
Mango Salsa
1 large mango, peeled, seeded, and diced
1/4 cup finely diced red onion
1 1/2 teaspoons minced cilantro (leaves only, no stems)
1 teaspoon freshly squeezed lime juice
1/2 teaspoon minced habanero chile
2 tablespoons finely diced red bell pepper
1/4 teaspoon salt
Combine all ingredients, mixing well. Serve chilled.
Good with fish, chicken, pork, or served over a salad with slices of avocado.
Chipotle Salsa
4 dried chipotle chiles
2 dried guajillo chiles (or dried New Mexican red chiles)
1 small onion, chopped
1 tablespoon vegetable oil
4 medium-size tomatoes, peeled and chopped (or 2 cups of canned diced tomatoes)
1 cup of low-sodium beef broth
3 tablespoons of cider vinegar
1 tablespoon of brown sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon pepper
1/4 teaspoon ground cumin
Place the chiles in a large bowl and cover them with hot water. Steep until they are soft, 20-25 minutes. Drain the chiles and discard the water. Remove the stems and chop the chiles.
In a saucepan, saute the onion in the oil until it is soft but not brown. Add the chiles and the remaining ingredients. Simmer for 15 to 20 minutes to thicken.
Put the sauce in a blender or food processor and puree until smooth. Don't strain.
Salsa Verde (Tomatillo Salsa)
1 pound tomatillos, husks removed, rinsed, and chopped (or 11 ounce can of tomatillos, drained)
1/2 cup diced white onion
2 garlic cloves, minced
2 or 3 serrano chiles (seeds included), mined
1/4 cup chopped cilantro (no stems)
sugar
salt
For a chunky salsa, combine the chiles, onion, garlic, and cilantro in a bowl. Mix well. Season to taste with salt and sugar. For a smoother salsa, combine all the ingredients except the cilantro. Add the ingredients to a blender or food processor and blend until smooth. Stir in the cilantro. Let the salsa to sit for an hour (refrigerated) before serving to allow the flavors to blend.
Mango Salsa
1 large mango, peeled, seeded, and diced
1/4 cup finely diced red onion
1 1/2 teaspoons minced cilantro (leaves only, no stems)
1 teaspoon freshly squeezed lime juice
1/2 teaspoon minced habanero chile
2 tablespoons finely diced red bell pepper
1/4 teaspoon salt
Combine all ingredients, mixing well. Serve chilled.
Good with fish, chicken, pork, or served over a salad with slices of avocado.
Chipotle Salsa
4 dried chipotle chiles
2 dried guajillo chiles (or dried New Mexican red chiles)
1 small onion, chopped
1 tablespoon vegetable oil
4 medium-size tomatoes, peeled and chopped (or 2 cups of canned diced tomatoes)
1 cup of low-sodium beef broth
3 tablespoons of cider vinegar
1 tablespoon of brown sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon pepper
1/4 teaspoon ground cumin
Place the chiles in a large bowl and cover them with hot water. Steep until they are soft, 20-25 minutes. Drain the chiles and discard the water. Remove the stems and chop the chiles.
In a saucepan, saute the onion in the oil until it is soft but not brown. Add the chiles and the remaining ingredients. Simmer for 15 to 20 minutes to thicken.
Put the sauce in a blender or food processor and puree until smooth. Don't strain.
Salsa Verde (Tomatillo Salsa)
1 pound tomatillos, husks removed, rinsed, and chopped (or 11 ounce can of tomatillos, drained)
1/2 cup diced white onion
2 garlic cloves, minced
2 or 3 serrano chiles (seeds included), mined
1/4 cup chopped cilantro (no stems)
sugar
salt
For a chunky salsa, combine the chiles, onion, garlic, and cilantro in a bowl. Mix well. Season to taste with salt and sugar. For a smoother salsa, combine all the ingredients except the cilantro. Add the ingredients to a blender or food processor and blend until smooth. Stir in the cilantro. Let the salsa to sit for an hour (refrigerated) before serving to allow the flavors to blend.
Thursday, June 02, 2005
I will put up a recipe this evening, but otherwise I have nothing of interest to write about. Someone please give me some ideas. Please! I am begging you. I'm willing to write about pretty much any topic other than food.
If I don't get some inspiration soon I will have to resort to listing the weird searches people have used to get to BTQ this week. Don't make me do that.
If I don't get some inspiration soon I will have to resort to listing the weird searches people have used to get to BTQ this week. Don't make me do that.
[The following post is a weekly update from Feddie and Eugene, the authors of the Coalition for Darfur blog]
Jan Pronk, U.N. envoy to Sudan, recently said that Secretary-General Kofi Annan was greatly impressed by improvement of the situation in Darfur. In Pronk's words
On top of that, the World Food Program reported that the number of people requiring food aid in Sudan is now more than six million, while the UNHCR reported that Janjaweed and government attacks have all but destroyed village life and forced some 2 million people into makeshift slums. With the majority of villages destroyed and insecurity rampant, it is not surprising that the displaced have become entirely dependent on foreign aid and are increasingly unwilling to return home.
As Eric Reeves explained in his most recent update
Thus, it is rather difficult to comprehend just what sorts of "improvement" Annan and Pronk claim to have witnessed in Darfur.
The international community continues to fail to seriously addresses this crisis and so we ask you to join the Coalition for Darfur as we attempt to raise awareness of this genocide and collect contributions for worthy organizations providing life-saving assistance to the forgotten people of Darfur.
Jan Pronk, U.N. envoy to Sudan, recently said that Secretary-General Kofi Annan was greatly impressed by improvement of the situation in Darfur. In Pronk's words
"Mr. Annan was really impressed by the improved situation in Darfur, which he visited on Saturday," Pronk told a press conference in Khartoum.At the time Annan was in Darfur, The Scotsman was reporting that
[edit]
"Foreign press reports, especially in the American press, which speak of no progress in Darfur are completely untrue," he added.
Confidential African Union (AU) reports have provided damning new evidence of the involvement of Sudanese government forces and their Janjaweed militia allies in the murder and rape of civilians in the Darfur region.At the same time, two aid workers from Doctors Without Borders were arrested because of a recent report documenting hundreds of cases of rape in the region.
On top of that, the World Food Program reported that the number of people requiring food aid in Sudan is now more than six million, while the UNHCR reported that Janjaweed and government attacks have all but destroyed village life and forced some 2 million people into makeshift slums. With the majority of villages destroyed and insecurity rampant, it is not surprising that the displaced have become entirely dependent on foreign aid and are increasingly unwilling to return home.
As Eric Reeves explained in his most recent update
Sometime in the summer of 2004 (we will never know precisely when), genocidal destruction in Darfur became more a matter of engineered disease and malnutrition than violent killing. In other words, disease and malnutrition proceeding directly from the consequences of violent attacks on villages, deliberate displacement, and systematic destruction of the means of agricultural productionAccording to a recent International Crisis Group estimate, "a minimum presence of 12,000-15,000 [military] personnel is needed now to undertake the tasks of protecting villages against further attack or destruction." But as it stands now, the African Union hasn't even been able to deploy the 3,000 or so troops required under its current mandate and will most likely be able to field the 7,000-12,000 troops called for in its expanded mission.
among the targeted non-Arab or African tribal groups became the major killers.
Thus, it is rather difficult to comprehend just what sorts of "improvement" Annan and Pronk claim to have witnessed in Darfur.
The international community continues to fail to seriously addresses this crisis and so we ask you to join the Coalition for Darfur as we attempt to raise awareness of this genocide and collect contributions for worthy organizations providing life-saving assistance to the forgotten people of Darfur.
Wednesday, June 01, 2005
I guess Tom DeLay finally found a jurisdiction he can avoid being indicted in, unless Jack Abramoff pays for the trip. Get in the van, kids -- we're going to the Moon! DeLay and the new NASA Administrator, Michael Griffin, announced that plans to build a moon base and send manned spaceships to Mars are still on track. Remember those? NASA sure does. It built a space shuttle to go to a then-unbuilt space station, and then justified spending buttloads of money (that's a space-age term) on a space station on the grounds that the shuttle needed somewhere to go. And now this: first it was all that money, so they'd better find a mission, and now it's finding money to support our big mission. I guess it shouldn't surprise us that people who deal with orbits all day sometimes give us circular logic.
Never mind that the technological hurdles and economics realities make any notion of getting to Mars in the foreseeable future "complete bunkum," in the words of Gregg Easterbrook. According to DeLay and Griffin, NASA will have all the funding it needs. Which means that in addition to every other budget-buster we've got going these days, we get to toss the space boondoggle on top. Calling Grover Norquist!
I'm not saying we should never go back into space or even to the moon or Mars (although I think sub-orbital airplanes and stronger Hubble-type telescopes should be a nearer-term priority). And I'm not saying that just because the technology doesn't exist now, we shouldn't invest any money in trying to create it. But the input should have some relationship to the expected output. What would be the point of going to the moon now? Or even Mars? If NASA made a technological breakthrough tomorrow that allowed us to launch for Mars by the end of the year...so what? What would be the benefit of that right now? I'm not discounting exploration for its own sake, but if that's the reason for going, let's keep it in perspective. Fund research now, but not hardware yet. Don't set a timetable. Don't act like we're in a race, or at least treat it as a marathon instead of a sprint. Recognize that there are higher budgetary priorities than building a funnel from the Treasury directly into aerospace contractors' pockets. Oh, I'm sorry -- a "space funnel." That makes it worth it.
Griffin, though, knows what his agency wants -- a sense of Cold War-style urgency and someone to beat to the moon...again: "If you ask anyone in this country, 'Do you believe that the United States should cede the moon to say the Chinese, Europeans, Russians, whoever?' I bet you the answer would be, 'No.'" Well, Mr. Griffin, what if you told them how much it would cost and how little it would really gain us, not to mention how unlikely it is that any of those would-be galactic usurpers will be setting up shop on the moon anytime soon? We're not "ceding" anything to anybody. Besides, if we're worried about that parallaxis-of-evil (space pun) dropping bombs on us from orbit, isn't that why we're building a missile defense shield? Hmm? (Note: space sarcasm. It's funnier in a vacuum.) If this is the best justification Griffin can come up with, he would have done better by pounding on the podium and screaming "Mars, Bitches!!"
Never mind that the technological hurdles and economics realities make any notion of getting to Mars in the foreseeable future "complete bunkum," in the words of Gregg Easterbrook. According to DeLay and Griffin, NASA will have all the funding it needs. Which means that in addition to every other budget-buster we've got going these days, we get to toss the space boondoggle on top. Calling Grover Norquist!
I'm not saying we should never go back into space or even to the moon or Mars (although I think sub-orbital airplanes and stronger Hubble-type telescopes should be a nearer-term priority). And I'm not saying that just because the technology doesn't exist now, we shouldn't invest any money in trying to create it. But the input should have some relationship to the expected output. What would be the point of going to the moon now? Or even Mars? If NASA made a technological breakthrough tomorrow that allowed us to launch for Mars by the end of the year...so what? What would be the benefit of that right now? I'm not discounting exploration for its own sake, but if that's the reason for going, let's keep it in perspective. Fund research now, but not hardware yet. Don't set a timetable. Don't act like we're in a race, or at least treat it as a marathon instead of a sprint. Recognize that there are higher budgetary priorities than building a funnel from the Treasury directly into aerospace contractors' pockets. Oh, I'm sorry -- a "space funnel." That makes it worth it.
Griffin, though, knows what his agency wants -- a sense of Cold War-style urgency and someone to beat to the moon...again: "If you ask anyone in this country, 'Do you believe that the United States should cede the moon to say the Chinese, Europeans, Russians, whoever?' I bet you the answer would be, 'No.'" Well, Mr. Griffin, what if you told them how much it would cost and how little it would really gain us, not to mention how unlikely it is that any of those would-be galactic usurpers will be setting up shop on the moon anytime soon? We're not "ceding" anything to anybody. Besides, if we're worried about that parallaxis-of-evil (space pun) dropping bombs on us from orbit, isn't that why we're building a missile defense shield? Hmm? (Note: space sarcasm. It's funnier in a vacuum.) If this is the best justification Griffin can come up with, he would have done better by pounding on the podium and screaming "Mars, Bitches!!"
Tuesday, May 31, 2005
I know this is late, but I'm still getting back in the hang of blogging.
1. What is the best thing about the city in which you live? What is the worst?
I was tempted to say "the weather" for both parts of this one. At times it can be great, but at other times it's just terrible. I was not bred for this kind of weather, and it's only been to my liking a few days here and there -- but those days were pretty nice. What else... My city is really close to some totally awesome stuff I would love to tell you about, but it's also close to some major crapholes. I guess the best way to sum it up is to say it has a lot of nice things, but at times overdoes it. Oh, for the worst thing, though, I would have to say traffic and the drivers who make it. People simply cannot drive well here.
2. Describe an idea or invention of yours that you would like to see turned into reality.
I spent a long time thinking about this one, because I know I've had good ideas in the past that I've just forgotten to write down. (I promise!) Something that would come in handy right about now is thought-activated-blogging. It would work kind of like voice-recognition software, but all I would have to do is think of something, and it would appear on the screen. In truth, I would have to do some heavy editing, because the stream of consciousness that would show up here would be pretty scary -- and hard to follow.
3. Name an overrated author, musician, and movie. Name an underrated author, musician, and movie.
This was sort of my question, so I don't appreciate Fitz ragging on it in his answers below. We were talking about something (I think it was a movie), and I said it was very underrated, and then -- flash! -- I said that would be a good question for our next set of Friday Spies©. So Fitz ran with it, mutated it into the present form, and then complained about it. Nice. That's so typical of him.
So, my answers. I think there are a lot of authors who don't deserve the adulation they get, but I'm going to go with Philip K. Dick. Dick was the author of the books or stories that were the basis of such films as Total Recall, Paycheck, Minority Report, and Blade Runner. The Blade Runner book, Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?, was good, but quite different from the movie. I guess I would call Dick overrated as a writer because, even though he had some great ideas about the future, and even the nature of humanity, he didn't follow through that well. I found a lot of his prose amateurish, frankly. And so the movies are often better-realized takes on the worlds Dick imagined.
An overrated musician? I'm going to go with Bruce Springsteen. I haven't really liked anything he's done since the "Born in the U.S.A." album. His early stuff -- "Born to Run," "Darkeness on the Edge of Town," "Asbury Park" -- were classics. But I think he dropped off quite a bit when he decided he was the Voice of the Common Man. I love to listen to him blow the roof off some place when he lights into the chorus from "Badlands," but Bruce bought the hype, as far as I'm concerned.
Overrated movie. I think this is a tough one, because I get sidetracked by all the bad movies that made big money; I'm not counting them. I think I have to go with "Scarface" and "Heat." I like a lot of Pacino's old stuff ("Dog Day Afternoon," "...And Justice for All," "Serpico," even "Cruising," a weird, weird movie). But "Scarface" never did anything for me, and I never found Tony Montana appealing even as an antihero. He wasn't any kind of evil genius; he was just a tougher thug. So what? And I swear my ears start to bleed every time I hear some yayo crow out about his "little friend." We get it -- thank you for compensating for your small penis. As for "Heat," I found it slow and dull for the most part, with too many diversions from the main plot, but that's probably just a matter of taste. Oh, so it's some kind of cinematic magic because it has De Niro and Pacino? Well, to that I say "Hoo-ah!" So what?
Now, for underrated. For author, I'll go with Sarah Vowell and Carl Hiaasen. I think they do okay in terms of books sales, but they should really be on the short list of best writers out there, especially humor writers. For underrated musicians, I'm going with The Band -- one of the top five American rock bands of all time. You could argue they changed rock and roll not once, not twice, but three times: first when they backed Bob Dylan when he went electric; second when, on their own, they released their self-titled album and "Music From Big Pink"; and third, with The Last Waltz, by simultaneously inventing the music video, the special guest appearance, and the farewell concert. For underrated movie, I'm going with Urban Cowboy. Tremendous acting performances by John Travolta, Scott Glenn, and Debra Winger, as well as Barry Corbin's best role this side of "Northern Exposure" (his speech about pride being "one of the seven deadlies" is beautiful). And a good soundtrack, providing a cameo for the CDB! I think this movie is overshadowed by Travolta's other dance-hall pic from that era, Saturday Night Fever (plus Grease in between), but Urban Cowboy is its equal. It's timeless, and could work in any music genre. Plus, this movie has some of my favorite film lines ever:
This is the one that really slowed me up. And then Amber stole my idea for a law school sitcom. But proving that the networks' me-too-ism knows no bounds, I'm keeping the idea and having my own. Between me and Fitz and Centinel, we've got plenty of wacky law school stories to tell. I would be played by Zach Braff, because the show would have that "Scrubs" and "Freaks and Geeks" sensibility and we need a lovable but insecure lead. Fitz would be played by Peter Krause of "Six Feet Under," and Cent would be Harry Connick, Jr. (don't ask, just go with it!). It would be like "Lost" in that we'd have a core group of characters, but every once in a while another survivor would get a subplot. And, like "Head of the Class," we would have a teacher we loved in our five-minute classes, and a stuffy Dean we would have a good time needling. After about seven years -- just enough time for viewers to get really antsy for a graduation -- we would have that "Saved by the Bell" improbable move where one character moves straight from student to teacher (remember how Screech became assistant principal like a week after graduating?! granted, he was 32 or so by then). As for love interests, I think the plot would work better if it was like my real law school experience -- several crushes on girls who were dating the biggest jerks in school. (No guesses, please, readers who know me.) Anyway, there are so many ways to go with this, I can't believe it hasn't been done before, and yet the networks keep feeding us tripe like "AUSA" and whatever those Supreme Court "dramas" were. Hollywood, call me -- I'm looking for work!
UPDATE, 6/1: I realized today that I forgot a title for my sitcom. I wish I hadn't remembered, because titles are hard. The network would probably focus-group some monstrously bad law-word-title like "Loopholes" or something. I might go with something like Life v. Milbarge. But that also reminded me that I had thought up some titles for sitcoms based on other blogs on my blogroll. I'll let you connect the dots:
Way to Go, Moon Milbarge! (very obscure "Simpsons" reference)
Two Guys, a Girl, and a Restraining Order
Rhymes With Toad
Two and a Half Inches
The Metrosexual
Everybody Loathes Dylan
B*A*S*H*M*A*N
5. When is the fun supposed to start?
Too late. You missed it.
1. What is the best thing about the city in which you live? What is the worst?
I was tempted to say "the weather" for both parts of this one. At times it can be great, but at other times it's just terrible. I was not bred for this kind of weather, and it's only been to my liking a few days here and there -- but those days were pretty nice. What else... My city is really close to some totally awesome stuff I would love to tell you about, but it's also close to some major crapholes. I guess the best way to sum it up is to say it has a lot of nice things, but at times overdoes it. Oh, for the worst thing, though, I would have to say traffic and the drivers who make it. People simply cannot drive well here.
2. Describe an idea or invention of yours that you would like to see turned into reality.
I spent a long time thinking about this one, because I know I've had good ideas in the past that I've just forgotten to write down. (I promise!) Something that would come in handy right about now is thought-activated-blogging. It would work kind of like voice-recognition software, but all I would have to do is think of something, and it would appear on the screen. In truth, I would have to do some heavy editing, because the stream of consciousness that would show up here would be pretty scary -- and hard to follow.
3. Name an overrated author, musician, and movie. Name an underrated author, musician, and movie.
This was sort of my question, so I don't appreciate Fitz ragging on it in his answers below. We were talking about something (I think it was a movie), and I said it was very underrated, and then -- flash! -- I said that would be a good question for our next set of Friday Spies©. So Fitz ran with it, mutated it into the present form, and then complained about it. Nice. That's so typical of him.
So, my answers. I think there are a lot of authors who don't deserve the adulation they get, but I'm going to go with Philip K. Dick. Dick was the author of the books or stories that were the basis of such films as Total Recall, Paycheck, Minority Report, and Blade Runner. The Blade Runner book, Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?, was good, but quite different from the movie. I guess I would call Dick overrated as a writer because, even though he had some great ideas about the future, and even the nature of humanity, he didn't follow through that well. I found a lot of his prose amateurish, frankly. And so the movies are often better-realized takes on the worlds Dick imagined.
An overrated musician? I'm going to go with Bruce Springsteen. I haven't really liked anything he's done since the "Born in the U.S.A." album. His early stuff -- "Born to Run," "Darkeness on the Edge of Town," "Asbury Park" -- were classics. But I think he dropped off quite a bit when he decided he was the Voice of the Common Man. I love to listen to him blow the roof off some place when he lights into the chorus from "Badlands," but Bruce bought the hype, as far as I'm concerned.
Overrated movie. I think this is a tough one, because I get sidetracked by all the bad movies that made big money; I'm not counting them. I think I have to go with "Scarface" and "Heat." I like a lot of Pacino's old stuff ("Dog Day Afternoon," "...And Justice for All," "Serpico," even "Cruising," a weird, weird movie). But "Scarface" never did anything for me, and I never found Tony Montana appealing even as an antihero. He wasn't any kind of evil genius; he was just a tougher thug. So what? And I swear my ears start to bleed every time I hear some yayo crow out about his "little friend." We get it -- thank you for compensating for your small penis. As for "Heat," I found it slow and dull for the most part, with too many diversions from the main plot, but that's probably just a matter of taste. Oh, so it's some kind of cinematic magic because it has De Niro and Pacino? Well, to that I say "Hoo-ah!" So what?
Now, for underrated. For author, I'll go with Sarah Vowell and Carl Hiaasen. I think they do okay in terms of books sales, but they should really be on the short list of best writers out there, especially humor writers. For underrated musicians, I'm going with The Band -- one of the top five American rock bands of all time. You could argue they changed rock and roll not once, not twice, but three times: first when they backed Bob Dylan when he went electric; second when, on their own, they released their self-titled album and "Music From Big Pink"; and third, with The Last Waltz, by simultaneously inventing the music video, the special guest appearance, and the farewell concert. For underrated movie, I'm going with Urban Cowboy. Tremendous acting performances by John Travolta, Scott Glenn, and Debra Winger, as well as Barry Corbin's best role this side of "Northern Exposure" (his speech about pride being "one of the seven deadlies" is beautiful). And a good soundtrack, providing a cameo for the CDB! I think this movie is overshadowed by Travolta's other dance-hall pic from that era, Saturday Night Fever (plus Grease in between), but Urban Cowboy is its equal. It's timeless, and could work in any music genre. Plus, this movie has some of my favorite film lines ever:
Sissy: You a real cowboy?4. If your life were a sitcom slated to air in the fall, what would the show be called? Who would you cast in the starring role? And for extra credit, give us a brief treatment of the show.
Bud: Depends on what you think a real cowboy is.
[Pause]
Sissy: Can you two-step?
Bud: Course.
[Long pause]
Sissy: Wanna prove it?
This is the one that really slowed me up. And then Amber stole my idea for a law school sitcom. But proving that the networks' me-too-ism knows no bounds, I'm keeping the idea and having my own. Between me and Fitz and Centinel, we've got plenty of wacky law school stories to tell. I would be played by Zach Braff, because the show would have that "Scrubs" and "Freaks and Geeks" sensibility and we need a lovable but insecure lead. Fitz would be played by Peter Krause of "Six Feet Under," and Cent would be Harry Connick, Jr. (don't ask, just go with it!). It would be like "Lost" in that we'd have a core group of characters, but every once in a while another survivor would get a subplot. And, like "Head of the Class," we would have a teacher we loved in our five-minute classes, and a stuffy Dean we would have a good time needling. After about seven years -- just enough time for viewers to get really antsy for a graduation -- we would have that "Saved by the Bell" improbable move where one character moves straight from student to teacher (remember how Screech became assistant principal like a week after graduating?! granted, he was 32 or so by then). As for love interests, I think the plot would work better if it was like my real law school experience -- several crushes on girls who were dating the biggest jerks in school. (No guesses, please, readers who know me.) Anyway, there are so many ways to go with this, I can't believe it hasn't been done before, and yet the networks keep feeding us tripe like "AUSA" and whatever those Supreme Court "dramas" were. Hollywood, call me -- I'm looking for work!
UPDATE, 6/1: I realized today that I forgot a title for my sitcom. I wish I hadn't remembered, because titles are hard. The network would probably focus-group some monstrously bad law-word-title like "Loopholes" or something. I might go with something like Life v. Milbarge. But that also reminded me that I had thought up some titles for sitcoms based on other blogs on my blogroll. I'll let you connect the dots:
Way to Go, Moon Milbarge! (very obscure "Simpsons" reference)
Two Guys, a Girl, and a Restraining Order
Rhymes With Toad
Two and a Half Inches
The Metrosexual
Everybody Loathes Dylan
B*A*S*H*M*A*N
5. When is the fun supposed to start?
Too late. You missed it.
As you've now doubt heard by now, the legendary "Deep Throat" has been revealed to be former FBI official Mark Felt. I thought it was funny today that for hours after the story broke (via a Vanity Fair article I first saw via Orin Kerr) the Washington Post only had a wire service story up on its web site. The story duly noted that the Post had no official comment.
Apparently they were waiting to hit "publish" on the special section linked above, and for public confirmation from Woodward and Bernstein and Bradlee. I wonder how soon they'll get their book into print.
For those of you into the Watergate-watching, slate had a nice collection up earlier of its previous Deep Throat links. And here is a nice follow-up. That piece, and the VF story, highlight the inner conflict Felt felt over revealing the secret. (Of course, one might think he would/could/should have felt the same hesitance to keep secrets thirty years ago.)
I guess after the tell-all from the former Supreme Court clerks about the behind-the-scenes doings during Bush v. Gore (see here), Vanity Fair is the place to go to spill your guts.
Anyway, I'll be the first to admit that I guessed wrong, although I didn't put a lot of effort into my sleuthing. A few months ago, when the buzz was that Chief Justice Rehnquist was Deep Throat, I wrote that there was no way, and that Henry Kissinger was a more likely source. I thought about trying to revise history and spin that post to say that all I was really implying was that Kissinger was more likely Deep Throat than Rehnquist, but I'll own up and say that I put my chips on Dr. K and came up snake eyes. Oh well. I had my fun, and now that the speculation is over, no one gets to play that guessing game anymore anyway.
Apparently they were waiting to hit "publish" on the special section linked above, and for public confirmation from Woodward and Bernstein and Bradlee. I wonder how soon they'll get their book into print.
For those of you into the Watergate-watching, slate had a nice collection up earlier of its previous Deep Throat links. And here is a nice follow-up. That piece, and the VF story, highlight the inner conflict Felt felt over revealing the secret. (Of course, one might think he would/could/should have felt the same hesitance to keep secrets thirty years ago.)
I guess after the tell-all from the former Supreme Court clerks about the behind-the-scenes doings during Bush v. Gore (see here), Vanity Fair is the place to go to spill your guts.
Anyway, I'll be the first to admit that I guessed wrong, although I didn't put a lot of effort into my sleuthing. A few months ago, when the buzz was that Chief Justice Rehnquist was Deep Throat, I wrote that there was no way, and that Henry Kissinger was a more likely source. I thought about trying to revise history and spin that post to say that all I was really implying was that Kissinger was more likely Deep Throat than Rehnquist, but I'll own up and say that I put my chips on Dr. K and came up snake eyes. Oh well. I had my fun, and now that the speculation is over, no one gets to play that guessing game anymore anyway.
Milbarge has complained a time or two that I pick on him. For some reason unknown to me, Milbarge doesn't reciprocate, though it's not for a lack of material. Curiously, no one else really gives me a hard time either, so I've been forced to take on that role myself. In fact, the only time of which I am aware that people made fun of me is the time I revealed that I purchased products for my hair and skin and that, yes, I shopped at the make-up counter.
Apparently, that post convinced a lot of people that they didn't really know me. They were confused, yet comedically (probably not a word) inspired to learn that the Fitz-Hume they thought they knew was merely an illusion, merely a construct. I'm glad that my life provides a source of amusement for everyone, but I want you to know that I wasn't always like that. I wasn't always the man destined to wear designer jeans. Once, long ago, I was a real person, not just a blogger who liked to use a bit of gel in his hair. A photo or two of my Bronco would probably do more to convince you of that than anything I could write, but I keep forgetting to photo the old Bronc. Thus, I have resorted to words to counterbalance some of the misconceptions about me that you might have based on that silly Clinique counter post.
The summer before law school I had to find a way to pay rent and survive until my loans and scholarship money showed up. The metropolis that was my law school town was not really a hotbed of economic activity. So I did what I had to do. What any young man straight out of college with a B.A. with Honors in Spanish and Poli Sci would do. I took a job shoveling manure. Literally. I worked for a coliseum / arena complex that featured horse shows, tractor pulls, county fairs, and rodeos. I wore Wranglers ($19.99 at the Wal-Marts), boots, and a company t-shirt. I started sweating at 7 a.m. and didn't stop until well past dark. I smelled like a horse blanket and had the world's worst farmer's tan. My job consisted of the aforementioned manure shoveling, driving a tractor, hauling trash, watering arenas, and delivering hay, straw and feed to the stables. Not the most intellectually challenging work, but I got to work out of doors, I made enough money to survive, and I was constantly surrounded by horses. Contrast that experience with the one I was to begin a few months later in which I declined to accept the meager intellectual challenge advanced, I rarely saw the light of day, I was paid nothing, and I was constantly surrounded by asses. Well, they were similar experiences in that each involved shoveling shit.
Many years before that, I dropped out of college (long story involving a broken heart that we will not get into here), moved to southern Colorado, and took a job as a packer for a hunting outfitter. Yes, you read that correctly. I quit college, throwing away a career, scholarship money, readily available booze, and Big 12 football to live in the wilderness with a half-blind horse, 10 grumpy mules, and a tent full of fat, smelly, jackass hunters. I traded sorority parties for saddle sores, and tequila shooters for a Winchester 30-30. And it was fine, for a while. Actually, I had a very good time in the San Juan Wilderness. My daily routine consisted of cooking breakfast for clients, saddling my horse, and retrieving the mules that had wandered during the night. After that, I would load the pack string with whatever trash or equipment needed to be packed out, load the hunters into their saddles, and lead the animals out of the wilderness and back to the trailhead. The next morning would see me retrace the trail back to camp, this time bringing in new supplies and new hunters. That was my life for several months. There were no hair products to be found in camp. No Starbucks. No bronzer. Just a beat up cowboy hat, chaps, bug spray, and a pair of deer skin work gloves seared black from a lantern fire I foolishly tried to extinguish with my hands.
Let me tell you that as much fun as it is to ride a horse every day, 12 hours in the saddle can wear on your body. Twelve hours a day for 4 months is also a lot of time to think about your life. And when I began to think, I realized that I did not want to end up a career cowboy, broke down and broke at the age of 30. So, at the end of elk season, I packed up my truck and headed back to Texas. Older? Yes. Wiser? Perhaps. Bowlegged? Yep. Did I get a facial and a massage as soon as I returned to civilization? No comment.
Apparently, that post convinced a lot of people that they didn't really know me. They were confused, yet comedically (probably not a word) inspired to learn that the Fitz-Hume they thought they knew was merely an illusion, merely a construct. I'm glad that my life provides a source of amusement for everyone, but I want you to know that I wasn't always like that. I wasn't always the man destined to wear designer jeans. Once, long ago, I was a real person, not just a blogger who liked to use a bit of gel in his hair. A photo or two of my Bronco would probably do more to convince you of that than anything I could write, but I keep forgetting to photo the old Bronc. Thus, I have resorted to words to counterbalance some of the misconceptions about me that you might have based on that silly Clinique counter post.
The summer before law school I had to find a way to pay rent and survive until my loans and scholarship money showed up. The metropolis that was my law school town was not really a hotbed of economic activity. So I did what I had to do. What any young man straight out of college with a B.A. with Honors in Spanish and Poli Sci would do. I took a job shoveling manure. Literally. I worked for a coliseum / arena complex that featured horse shows, tractor pulls, county fairs, and rodeos. I wore Wranglers ($19.99 at the Wal-Marts), boots, and a company t-shirt. I started sweating at 7 a.m. and didn't stop until well past dark. I smelled like a horse blanket and had the world's worst farmer's tan. My job consisted of the aforementioned manure shoveling, driving a tractor, hauling trash, watering arenas, and delivering hay, straw and feed to the stables. Not the most intellectually challenging work, but I got to work out of doors, I made enough money to survive, and I was constantly surrounded by horses. Contrast that experience with the one I was to begin a few months later in which I declined to accept the meager intellectual challenge advanced, I rarely saw the light of day, I was paid nothing, and I was constantly surrounded by asses. Well, they were similar experiences in that each involved shoveling shit.
Many years before that, I dropped out of college (long story involving a broken heart that we will not get into here), moved to southern Colorado, and took a job as a packer for a hunting outfitter. Yes, you read that correctly. I quit college, throwing away a career, scholarship money, readily available booze, and Big 12 football to live in the wilderness with a half-blind horse, 10 grumpy mules, and a tent full of fat, smelly, jackass hunters. I traded sorority parties for saddle sores, and tequila shooters for a Winchester 30-30. And it was fine, for a while. Actually, I had a very good time in the San Juan Wilderness. My daily routine consisted of cooking breakfast for clients, saddling my horse, and retrieving the mules that had wandered during the night. After that, I would load the pack string with whatever trash or equipment needed to be packed out, load the hunters into their saddles, and lead the animals out of the wilderness and back to the trailhead. The next morning would see me retrace the trail back to camp, this time bringing in new supplies and new hunters. That was my life for several months. There were no hair products to be found in camp. No Starbucks. No bronzer. Just a beat up cowboy hat, chaps, bug spray, and a pair of deer skin work gloves seared black from a lantern fire I foolishly tried to extinguish with my hands.
Let me tell you that as much fun as it is to ride a horse every day, 12 hours in the saddle can wear on your body. Twelve hours a day for 4 months is also a lot of time to think about your life. And when I began to think, I realized that I did not want to end up a career cowboy, broke down and broke at the age of 30. So, at the end of elk season, I packed up my truck and headed back to Texas. Older? Yes. Wiser? Perhaps. Bowlegged? Yep. Did I get a facial and a massage as soon as I returned to civilization? No comment.
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Volokh Conspiracy
Crescat Sententia
Sugar, Mr. Poon?
SCOTUSblog
E. McPan
Southern Appeal
Stay of Execution
S.W. Va. Law Blog
CrimLaw
Sentencing L&P
Begging to Differ
Prettier Than Napoleon
Favorable Dicta
The Yin Blog
De Novo
PG: HtSoM
Centinel
Hot Librarian
Blonde Justice
Althouse
PrawfsBlawg
Concurring Opinions
Crime & Federalism
Orin Kerr
Is That Legal?
Prof. Bainbridge
Frolics & Detours
AppellateLaw&Practice
Right Coast
Abstract Appeal
Clearly Erroneous
Fresh Pepper?
Side Salad
The Wishbone
Jeremy Blachman
Overheard/Office
Naked Drinking Coffee
Legally Blonde
Legal Underground
WSJ Law Blog
The Slog
Trivial Pusuits
Still Angry
Crooked Timber
The Conglomerate
Heldman: Ignatz
Don't Let's Start
Screaming Bean
Heidi Bond
Stag Blog
Legal Quandary
Divine Angst
ObsessiveLawStudent
Things Thrown
The Imbroglio
Signifying Nothing
Stuart Buck Legal Fiction
Under. Robes
NRO's Corner
New Republic
Balkinization
Election Law Blog
Legal Theory Blog
Legal Ethics Forum
Ernie the Attorney
Intel Dump
Disability Law
Bag & Baggage
Between Lawyers
Becker-Posner
Lessig Blog
Crim Prof Blog
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Grits for Breakfast
All Deliberate Speed
Adventures of Chester
College Basketball Blog
College Football News
Nomination Nation
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Slate
Atlantic
RJYH: Fanopticon
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The views presented here are personal and in no way reflect the view of my employer. In addition, while legal issues are discussed here from time to time, what you read at BTQ is not legal advice. I am a lawyer, but I am not your lawyer. If you need legal advice, then go see another lawyer.
Furthermore, I reserve (and exercise) the right to edit or delete comments without provocation or warning. And just so we're clear, the third-party comments on this blog do not represent my views, nor does the existence of a comments section imply that said comments are endorsed by me.
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