Emergency Appeal Ends

Okay folks… that’s enough.

Your unbelievable generosity has carried me over this financial hump, sufficiently so that I can settle the account with Immigration (and possibly the lawyers, yikes), and even pay the rent and utilities at the end of the month — none of which would have been possible two days ago.

After this, the cash flow should be able to handle the rest, and so I can call an end to the appeal.

You have no idea how much this costs me — and I don’t mean financially.  I am a proud man, and hate having to rely on other people’s generosity.  (I was going to say “strangers”, but I’d like to think that y’all aren’t that;  we’ve spent too many hours on this back porch of mine, ranting, raving and shaking our fists at the universe together.)  And that’s all I’m going to say about that.

Anyway, the gun I’m going to draw for the raffle is this one, as soon as I can get it back (maybe by the end of next month, or soon thereafter):

It’s a Ruger MkII Target with a 6″ bull barrel, plus a spare mag.  In my shaking hands, it’s very accurate;  for the Son&Heir, who is young and hearty and has an identical model, it’s a one-holer.  (I’m pretty sure it’s legal in all 50 states;  but if you’re the winner and it isn’t in yours, let me know and we can make another arrangement.)


3 Modern Things

…that would have caused my old Dad’s brow to furrow with amazement:

1.) Bottled water.
“WTF?”  Selling ordinary water?  In bottles?  And charging how much?”  That’s not to say he was unfamiliar with the concept — he’d been to France, and after getting the runs from drinking Parisian tap water, he did what the Frogs did and drank Perrier.
But the idea of a society which did have clean and potable water out of the tap (e.g. the U.S. and the U.K.), but still sold bottled water would have been as alien to him as people not being able to drive a stick shift.  So:

2.) All auto, all the time.
Back when I were a yoot and my old man was still alive (early 1970s), you couldn’t take your driving test in a car with automatic transmission.  Which meant you had to know how to take off on an incline without rolling backwards, as well as being able to row through the gears when parallel parking (another required activity).  Once again, he was perfectly comfortable driving his various Mercedes (all auto), he just wouldn’t now be able to understand why almost nobody in the current generation can’t perform so simple an activity.  Of course, that’s not all the modern yoot can’t handle:

3.) No manners, no discipline and no beatings.
The lack of manners in today’s society and the indiscipline not just in kids but in everyone would have driven him crazy.  Tardiness, ingratitude, disrespect not just for one’s elders but for everyone… all this makes me want to reach for the sjambok.  My dad would have been worse.  And all this is because children’s (okay, boys’) backsides have somehow become sacred objects that one may no longer use as a disciplinary receptacle for the above whip.  As I always say, it’s not the punishment  per se  but the fear of punishment that keeps youthful psychopaths on the straight and narrow.  And all this has disappeared from homes, the schools and the court system because OMG the chiiiiildren!  And the children have responded in true Lord Of The Flies fashion, and we are shocked and saddened by all of it because we are morons and can’t understand the root causes of the above.

What a load of bollocks.  All of it.

Now It’s “NO Feet”?

What the hell has become of the yoot of today?  (I know, it’s a common plaint.)  Via Insty, I see this strange paradigm:

Generation Z, the generation born between 1997 and 2012, is now occupying high schools across the country, and their feet are decidedly covered.  Not only do they often prefer not to show their own feet, but they can take offense to others who do.

Bloody hell.

Yeah I know, creepy foot fetishes and all that.  (If I can be honest, I think that of all the sexual fetishes, the one for feet has to be the most harmless.)

Anyway I’m not immune to the allure of the female foot, although it’s not a particular fetish for me.  Here’s Semiaramis:

…whose feet are decidedly sexy, but then again I find her whole outfit undeniably so.

Kids need to get some perspective, and a grip.

Reader Input

I have Teh Competition!  From his well-defended bunker in coastal Florida, Reader Sean F. sends the following:


For the meat, I get a cut called caipirinha – a South American (Brazilian) cut which is actually the top of the rump, with the thick fat attached Top round, etc. is fine, but I like the fat layer, which should be trimmed down to 1/4” for biltong.  (Leave on for roasting.)

Per 1 lb. of raw meat – double or triple, etc.

Cut meat into thumb thickness pieces with grain

Spice mix:

2 tsp. coarse black pepper

3 tbsp. roasted and ground coriander seeds – grind with red pepper flakes to taste

Add to grind powdered garlic and onion 1/2 tsp @


½ c red wine vinegar

¼ c Worcestershire Sauce

Pat the meat dry and rub in ¼ of the spice mix on each side. Add marinade and put in tight Ziploc, overnight in frig. Turn, if you think of it.

Hang to dry.

It takes me 3 days in this hot but air-conditioned climate to get to “wet”.  Leave 5 days for “dry”.

…and he had the temerity to send me a couple of (wet) sample sticks.

Upshot:  New Wife prefers it to mine.  (“More savory, wetter, nice fat sliver.”)  Some Seffrican buddies we shared it with over the weekend also pronounced it excellent.

Action:  Will copy and steal the above recipe, as should everybody.

Verdict:  Business opportunity.