Decision-making for Dummies

decision-making for dummies
Originally uploaded by petit hiboux.

Whoever wins will still have to endure sharp teeth and slobber.

THE Ultimate Dinner

I have been waiting for this one since I got home. My folks fired up the smoker and cooked two chickens, a pork shoulder and some sausage. Here is the first meal.

Smoked Pork Shoulder (butt)
Smoked Sausage
Fried Okra
Black Eyed Peas with Green Beans
Corn and Chipotle Casserole
Hot Sauce
Two types of store bought sauce
Mom's Home Made Sauce
and some fresh Tomatoes and Onions.

Are you hungry yet?

Inuendo

Ha ha ha ha. I may not work with AB any more, but they still make great ads.

Happy VD!!!

This is a little late, but still funny. Rejected cards from Shoebox. Enjoy.

Really? REALLY?

Watch, and laugh.



And I cannot bring up Underdog without thinking of of Mighty Mouse.

Temp office

Temp office

This is where the Commander has been working for the past couple of weeks. As you can see I have a new personal assistant. He works hard and plays hard.

Today it is actually raining, but nothing like what you folks in SF had a few weeks ago.

Otherwise, not much more to report.

Cheers from Florida!

STOP!

Will Ferrell Reveals his secret identity.

I thought it was funny how the poses on the old ad (little girl) and new ad (will ferrell) kind of lined up
Originally uploaded by Amit Gupta.

A timely, and aligned billboard change in San Francisco. Who knew?

Recommended Reading - The Book of Vice

Peter Sagal, the host of NPR's Wait Wait Don't Tell Me news quiz, is one of my favorite personalities. His latest book, The Book of Vice, is an examination of guilty pleasures that humans enjoy. His research took him across the US, but the book begins and ends in San Francisco.The following exert is from the afterward and in my current time of reflection I found it very appropriate, not only for the reminders of home, but also for the message. I hope you enjoy it.

At the end of my night at the Power Exchange [yes, the sex club] I was picked up by a friend and taken straight to a party held by a San Francisco collection of 'Burners," veterans of the famous Burning Man art festival/neoprimative party/happening held every year in the Nevada desert.The party filled a huge industrial loft somewhere down near the China Basin waterfront, maybe five hundred people, ranging in age from teenagers on up to people in their fifties. Everybody glowed with joy and/or alcohol, and/or maybe some other chemical enhancements. Some of the women were so beautiful they would immediately have caused a riot had they walked into the deli display case that is the Power Exchange, or at least they would have commanded a hushed, churchlike silence. Some of the men too.

House music filled the warehouse, and people danced, some with each other, some by themselves. I have never much liked large parties, because, being a nervous fellow, I have always felt as if the expectations were too unclear - was I supposed to be trying to pick people up? Impress them? Ignore them? But having been to the Power Exchange, and the Swingers Shack [a real swingers club] and numerous strip clubs and casinos, where the exact nature of the expected is explicit - sometimes written out on the felt - all of a sudden the ambiguity seemed marvelous. People were there to do whatever they wanted to, but unlike all those other places I had been, here I had no real clue what it was. The swingers I had net talked of the pleasure in everybody's agenda being absolutely clear, but there are advantages to ambiguity. Any one of the most beautiful women, dancing there in the middle of the crowd, could be a virgin, or a lesbian, or a man - there was no way of knowing. They were just dancing, and their casually kept secrets added to the allure.

After a short while, two women, wearing florescent body paint and thongs and bras and glitter, came to the center of the room and people cleared out of the way. They produced rhinestoned hula hoops, and proceeded to do the most joyous, erotic, and goofy routine with them that I could ever hope to see. People clapped and applauded, and then they went back to dancing themselves, with their lovers or by themselves, stoned or sober, sad or happy. I looked at them all, and drank my beer with a strange contentment, and thought of the son of a friend of mine, an actor named Steve.

Steve had a teenage son with autism, and has suffered through the usual difficulties of raising such a child. But his son made great strides, and once, at the age of twelve or so, was taken to see a production at a children's theater.

He just loved it, and came home with boundless energy and excitement, talking a blue streak, which in and of itself was a victory for Steve. He talked about all the magical effects he had seen - the actors flying through space, the disappearances and illusions . "I wonder how they did that!" he said.

Steve, being a veteran of the theater, began to explain. "Well the actor is wearing a special kind of clothing, called a harness, which -"

"No Dad," said his son, silencing him. "I don't want to know. I want to wonder."

My Recomendation

I do not often offer recommendations, but I will in this case. WATCH Rick Cleveland's My Friend Bill. It is on Comedy Central. WATCH IT. He is a television writer, awkward and has difficulty with popularity. At the same time he is hilarious. Once again set your VCRs / TIVOS and WATCH IT.

The Commander