Flutterby Killer

I have been convinced for years that butterflies are just animated flowers. I learned this week that they are kinda stupid too.

It would appear that this time of year in deep South Texas the butterflies are being born, migrating, or otherwise gathering in great numbers, making it impossible to drive anywhere without killing them in droves.

Since I was in a hurry to leave deep South Texas I killed more than a few of the fluttering critters. I was not the only one. I saw thousands of little butterfly corpses littering the highways and hundreds of wounded, limping down the shoulder, little butterfly crutches and casts slowing them down.

My doghouse was plastered with their little winged corpses, making a rather interesting mosaic over the front. Fortunately for the more gentle readers, it rained on my trip home or I would post photographic evidence of the remains of the little butterfly parts plastered to the front of my home away from home.

It sure feels good to be home.

It's not the heat, it's the stupidity.

I think that I may have expressed in the past that I do not like this place. I am more of a snow, ice, and highs in the 80s kinda guy.

This morning I went for a bicycle ride to the beach. I left well before sunup and it was still 80 degrees.

I had a pleasant time listening to the waves and watching the sun come up. I sucked up some atmosphere and generally made the best of things for a while.

When I got back to the doghouse I stepped inside and it felt COLD. I checked the outside temperature and the inside temperature and they were only 4 degrees apart.

The outdoor humidity was close to 100% while the indoor humidity was MUCH lower, making it feel like I had just stepped into a refrigerator.

The next time someone says, “It’s not the heat, it’s the humidity,” I think I will torture them near to death with tales of living here.

Then perhaps I will never have to hear anyone say that again.

Ever.

Asspaper

I wonder who invented toilet paper. He (or she) deserves some kind of tribute or statue or holiday. (“Happy Asswipe Day!”)

I see toilet paper as one of the things that separate us from the beasts. (The opposable thumb, laughter, exchanging information, and asspaper.)

You don’t see your pets wiping the clinging shit from their asses, do you? (A dog dragging its butt across the rug does not count. That is just scratching.  A cat licking it’s ass doesn’t count because, well, its just gross.)

I imagine primitive man (somewhere between a chimp and a construction worker) grabbing his first handful of grass to relieved the itching and smell of early clingons, then showing his stoop shouldered friends how much easier hunting could be without the shit smell.

As time passes, so do fads, and we soon evolved to using other forms of vegetable matter to keep our asses clean. Corn cobs (For those of you who are rural illiterate, the cob is the part of corn on the cob that you don’t eat.) were an American favorite, and leaves still make an occasional appearance when camping.

Now some bathrooms have little fountains to help you keep your ass clean and fresh smelling. I have never experienced one of these butthole delights, but I think I would probably like it. (“May I borrow your bidet?”)

I am glad to live in an age of clean asses. Next I hope we can house break construction workers.

Limited access

For some unknown reason, I can only post whenever the SPIT server if in a good mood and willing to grant me access. (Usually just long enough to tease me and then stop dead.)

I will post more as soon as I can figure out how to bribe the SPIT server into letting me get beyond the "Timed out" message.

It has taken me over an hour to get this message to Blogger and I am hoping that it will actually get posted, unlike the last 12 attempts.

Thank you for my patience.

SPIT

I send greetings to you from South Padre Island, Texas. (SPIT)

SPIT is hotter than the last time, but still seems to attract scores and more of people disposing of their disposable income.

This time I am actually ON the island. I don’t have to stay in the white trash park living next to White Trash Man and the Gnomes.

The island is a Gnome Free Zone, so they will not annoy me this time.

I have cable TV and a somewhat cranky Wi-Fi connection, so I feel like I am a modern man living in the safe zone of a third world nation.

Yippie fukkin’ tie one on! I might kinda like it here this time.

The state of Wi-Fi

I can’t believe that Dallas Love field charges for WIFI!! Cheep bastards! It’s shit like this that makes travel a pain in the ass. Six to seven dollars for people passing through seems a bit like rape to me.

I also like the high-end RV Park in Austin that charges you three bucks a day, but after midnight you no longer have access. Where I come from a day means 24 hours, not till midnight. Fukkin’ cheep bastards.

If I were to travel full time I would compile a list of pay sites that should be avoided at all costs and post that list on the internet.

Oklahoma was terrible for wi-fi access. In the whole town of Norman I could only find one hot spot, and that one was in the MALL!

Yes, I am disappointed in the state of wi-fi in the places I go. When I am on the road, I pretty much depend on wi-fi in order to keep in touch with home, work, and the world. I don’t want to believe that there are not enough people ranting and raving about not having access to make things better.

I don’t necessarily mind paying, but I do mind paying too much, or paying for access that is cut off.

I have considered purchasing one of those new cards that use the cell phone network to give you access, but with a two year commitment and fifty bucks a month, I don’t think I will be on the road enough to justify it. I am hoping to spend most of the next year at home. (for the most part)

Greetings from Austin

Forty-eight hours ago I was at ‘Sanctuary’ (What we call the hacienda) and enjoying being in the welcome arms of family and ungrateful children.

Now I am in Austin, Texas, on my way back to Brownsville, and hoping that this time I will be allowed to finish that project and get back to home for more than a long weekend.

Sometimes I hate how work interferes with my personal life.

Happy

I am being serenaded by a thunderstorm and it is GLORIOUS.

The weather has been kind to me on my last two visits back to New Mexico. The last time I was home it snowed, this time rain has been an afternoon event almost every day.

It has been raining for hours, thundering and lightening for longer, and I am happy as a dog eating cat shit.

Ringo

The delightful and wonderful Mrs. Troll scammed a couple of tickets to “Ringo Starr and his All Star Band” for last night.

The crowd would be best described as geriatric. I saw many T-shirts that were new in the 60s and 70s, well worn and faded like their wearers and the band members.

The concept for this tour is once popular musicians who could not carry a tour on their own banding together to fill venues and make dollars. It works in it’s own way, if you are a consumer emotionally trapped in past decades. In the waiting line I heard many a tale of past concerts and glory days.

While we were waiting patiently for the band to show, a large drunken man was ‘entertaining’ us by singing old Beatles tunes and declaring that ‘there are only two left, man…..two left’ while weaving drunkenly through the crowd.

I was surprised that my wife and neighbors were so against my comments that he would benefit greatly by a .357 round to the head or a shotgun blast to the belly. I think it was because he kept singing, ‘All you need is love.”

Security finally got him to shut up, the band finally began to play, and we became entertained.

I am not going to revue this concert. If you are a fan of this type of thing, then you should go. They are all professional musicians and all are serious about what they do.

I didn’t go for the music or the nostalgia; I went to watch people and to get out of the rut that I have been in for the last six months while on the road.

It was worth it.

Another Public Disservice Messsage

I began a rather lengthy entry about Dihydrogen Monoxide, but found that they have done it much better here.

I am not yet dead.

I know, I know.  I have been disappeared for a while.

I am going to blame it on those damn gnomes. They managed to get me thrown out of the RV park.

They stole all the things at White Trash Man’s place and put them under the Doghouse, making it look like I stole it. Even worse, making it look like I am a really stupid thief by not actually hiding anything.

I am certain that they were greatly entertained by this joke.

I know that the park manager and his live-in tattooed temptress did not think it was funny.

As a peace offering to the Gnomes, I left behind six bottles of beer when I left in the dead of night, each one with enough poison inside to kill a small mule.

I hope they have a good time celebrating.

I went from there to Oklahoma, where the Internet is something only weird people or aliens from outer space might want. Needless to say, there was none to be found in the town in which I was staying.

I have developed a theory that there is a relationship between Internet fear and mullets. I have observed that the more mullets in a given area, the more restricted and slower the Internet access.

There you have it.