Neanderpundit

I spent some time in Ohio, where there is a large Japanese population. And sumo on TV all the time. I loved it. Sumo is the one martial art I am perfectly suited for, and if I but had knees and I was fourteen I might well have found a stable and joined up.

Well, no.

But wouldn’t it be fun to see a fat snow white cracker lifting his leg up over his head and stomping out demons? Sure, there have been American sumo like Akebono, (No relation to sonnybono) but he was at least mostly Polynesian. I mean a guy like me who never leaves the house without long sleeves, who has skin like the underside of a channel cat, wearing a big Mawashi, my pimply buttcheeks on display for all to see.

The bleach is under the kitchen sink next to the window cleaner.

and the oglet off at school, there’s nobody to carp at me about eating frosted flakes the proper way: Fill a bowl with milk and sprinkle in a mouthful of Frosted Flakes at a time, so each mouthful is milk-damp but still optimally crunchy.

it’s the little things.

Off to a side gig today, with some possible shooting at the end of it so I’m bringing the PPX. I fo through ammo on this bugger like water, and as Tam said the other day, $.30 is the “New normal” for 9. God, I remember buying it for 9 cents a round, and that wasn’t so horribly long ago.

So last weekend, my dear old friend and confidant Mlle Jenny is on her way to Road Atlanta, where she is a timekeeper, does all the tough work of making sure everyone’s every second is counted.

And on the way her co-worker, who is driving, says “Oh! I think I hit a dog!” they hear a thump but it’s too dark and too late to do much about it, and Jenny doesn’t see anything, they drive on.

Sometime later they go to the drive up at a mcDonalds for breakfast. And arrive in the dark at the racetrack, unload their equipment, get set up. And the driver returns to the car for something he’s forgotten, to see this: Continue Reading »