Neanderpundit

Kim is trying to make the point that he’s just a regular guy. He’s right, too, he is the kind of guy you could sit next to at a bar and swap tales and buy brews and generally have a great time.

On the third hand, however, here’s a guy who had a classical education. A man more well read than 90% of the people I know. A man who speaks a handful of languages. A man who came from outside this country, with an outsider’s perspective, and made specific conscious choices to come and stay here. A man who understands our constitution, and laws, better, shamefully, than most of us.

Finally, a gentleman. Married to a genuine lady. With bright and sane and respectful children.

To me, the best gift anyone can give me is to listen to the tales I tell and be amused by them. I’ve had Kim in tears. It was a great honor.

yeah, Kim is a regular guy. The way Reagan was an ordinary president. If you ever have a chance to meet Kim, or any of the Fabulous Du Toits, and you don’t, you’re a fool.

over here, and I have to say, I loves me some lobster.

I don’t consider Dead Mobster lobster real either, oh fedorae’d one. I’ve eaten the real thing too.

Many years ago, I did a job in Dexter, maine. Flew in and out of Bangor. I put in some time there just wandering around in a rental car, and found that i could easily get to an area where lobster boats came to dock. I bought a nice sized lob off a guy unloading his boat for $5 cash, and I took it to a guy on the shore who boiled it for me, and gave me a little plastic container of drawn butter, for another $5. There was a 2×12 on top of pilings on the dock, and attached to it, were cheap pliers welded to steel chains, which were in turn attached to screw eyes.

I stood at that 2×12, smelling the salt air, pulling flesh out of the lobster and eating it, cracking the claws with the tethered pliers and dipping the meat into lemon drawn butter, feeling it run down my face and dampen my shirt. I looked like an idiot. My mouth was incredibly happy. I felt grand. I never felt that good about a meal I paid ten bucks for in my whole life.

Lobster anywhere else hasn’t been the same since.

Today as I sat on the throne in the bathroom of the manufacturing facility where I’m working, i hear a fairly large crash, and a forklift tong enters the brick wall of the stall where I’m siting, thankfully several feet from me. I get to the paperwork fairly quickly, pull up the drawers and zip up, and step over the forklift to exit the stall.

Outside, a gapers block has begun to form, and eventually the forklift is extracted from the wall.

I can safely say, as a method of making you no longer interested in crapping, this is utterly effective. You couldn’t drive a sewing needle up my ass with a jackhammer. I’ll probably be shitting spaghetti for a month.