Wednesday, March 30, 2005

Bob, Booze and a Birthday Party

I received a phone call from Wheel Gun Bob one warm Saturday night asking if I might want to go shoot some stuff all to hell the next day.

Would I?

Damn right I would! Right after I clear it with the Cod Gal.

She said "sure" so I headed off to bed (re:went to pass out) to dream of bullets and explosions.

After a fitful night of sleep, I rose to those damn crows walking me up for the umpteenth day in a row. After making a mental note to look for some weapons-grade plutonium to deal with them, I headed downstairs to have a quick breakfast of cinnamon pop tarts and diet Mountain Dew. After that breakfast of champions, I packed up my weapons of choice for the day and headed on over to pick up WGB.

When I got there, it became apparent to me that WGB was feeling quite jolly during this fine day. After seeing the empty Bud cans strewn about, I figured out why. I'm quick like that. It's my keen grasp of the obvious.

WGB offered me a cold beer but with being the responsible one that would NEVER drink and drive, I declined. After WGB got done slapping me around, torturing me with jumper cables and (this is what ultimately made me crack) making me listen to liberal talk radio, I caved in and reluctantly agreed to have a beer with him. But, I didn't enjoy it!....or the 8 more after that.

(Ok, Ok. He never tortured me... or offered me a beer for that matter. What a cheap bastard, huh? I drank them all anyways.)

After hanging out a while waiting for him to get his weapons together, we came upon a dilemma. We had only 4 beers left and we had to get to the range so I could be back in time to heat the wax for the Cod Gal. So, we did what any responsible people would do, we took them with us. I mean, what's the worst that can happen when you combine alcohol and firearms? The ATF does it all the time. Right? Anyone?

Well, instead of the range we ended up at a favorite gravel/sand pit that we have been to several times over the years. It's great because there are always ample targets kicking around. Things like doors, washing machines, furniture, and my personal extinguishers.

One of our favorite things to do is set up some clay pigeons against one of the hills and shoot at those. It works out well because they smash to pieces when you hit them, they are easy to see for you blind bastards out there (I'm not naming names but his initials are Wheel Gun Bob) and they are bio-degradable. And that means something to me...because I care.

Well, after a few uneventful rounds.....and also shooting some stuff (insert rim shot here) we decided that the door that we saw on the way in would be a perfect thing to shoot at. Then again, what isn't?

We quickly set the door up and then had at it with the Bface's .44mag and my .40 caliber Glock. Suffering from A.D.D. as we do, we quickly became quite bored. That was, until I came up with a plan. The door had one of those decorative patterns over the glass that was basically just a series of wooden x's. But it was those same x's that were the key....they held the clay pigeons in between them perfectly! We could now set up anywhere from 10-15 in the door and shoot them out resulting in a much more spectacular result than what we were getting when they were on the ground.

It was going great until this one time when it was Bob's turn.

Remember those 4 beers? They're still around.

Now, it was Bob's turn to set up the clay pigeons in the door so I sat back on the tailgate of my truck and waited for him to finish. As I was waiting, I saw all the empties in the back of my truck (that we so responsibly took from his house with the FULL intention of placing them at the nearest recycling center) and remembered that we had some left. So, after cracking one, having a sip or two, I noticed that Bob was getting a little bit wound up.

The whole time that he was setting up the door it went like this....

WGB- I love this door....I LOVE THIS DOOR!!

ME- Yeah


Me- yeah, it's cool

WGB- this FUCK-ING door RULES!!

Me-yeah, it kicks ass...let's go

WGB- I fucking love it!!

Me-I know (then picking up my beer, bringing it towards my mouth....seeing a cop 30 feet away from me looking right at me with his arms folded....then I, all in one motion, immediately pretend that I am stretching and dropping the beer in the truck behind me) yeah, it's great Bob, let's go

WGB- (the cop is now standing beside motioning for me to be quiet while looking at Bob who is facing away from us) I....LOVE....THIS.....FUCKING.....DOOR!!

Me- yeah, ok Bob, let's shoot

WGB- ok, one more clay pigeon to set up....hey, open me a beer?

Me- I don't think that's such a good idea

WGB- Why not?

Me- Bob, let's!

WGB- Ok, but I LOVE THIS (he turns around)

Needless to say, WGB was a bit surprised to see Mr. Man standing beside me. Hell, so was I. You need to remember that we were at one end of a WIDE OPEN pit and he had to walk about half a mile in a open area just to get up next to us. How he did that without us noticing, I'll never know. Especially since he was about 6'5" and 250lbs and dressed in black. It's probably my keen grasp of the obvious working again, I guess.

Anyways, he starts questioning us....

Cop- doing a little shooting?

Me- yes, shooting
Bob- well, mhjsdileths...I mean, mmndgetsm....
Me-(cutting him off) yes sir, just a little shooting

Cop- (pointing at the beers and the pile of beer cans in my truck) How many of those have you had today?

WGB- Well, we wmngshte...
Me-(cutting him off and giving him an "I'll talk" look) There were only four left in the 12 pack, so we figured we would just finish them off. Those other cans were from last night, sir.

Cop- (eyeing WGB suspiciously) Who is driving here today?

Me-(grabbing my driver's license) I am sir. Would you like to see my registration as well?

Cop- No, it's ok. We just had a few complaints about the noise.

Me- we shoot in here all the time

Cop- yeah, well, it's not legal...I know everyone does it, though. Just don't do it on weekends when everyone is home, ok?

Me- Yes Sir! No problem at all.

Cop- (leaning in towards me and gesturing towards WGB) Is he ok?

Me- Yeah, he's just a little slow, that's all. I try to get him out on the weekends.

Cop- Well get out of here and keep an eye on him...and no more beers, ok?

Me- Yes, sir! Let's go Bob!

And that was that. He waited for us to leave the pit but then followed us when we didn't head towards home. We had no intentions of going home. It was a beautiful day and Bob said that we still had some time to kill so we should go scope some Betties at the beach. Who am I to disagree?

Of course, we ended up in a bar down there. He kept saying to me "One more drink, I'm buying!" every time that I said that we should get going. Once again, who am I to say no to an elder? The one thing that I didn't notice (might have had something to do with the drinks) was that he kept looking at his watch. Another round over here, barkeep!

Anyways, he finally dragged me out of there, propped me up in the truck and we headed for home. I kept saying "Man, the wife is going to be pissed" and he kept saying "No, she'll be fine."

Famous last words...

Well, when I got home I found out why he wasn't concerned. The wife had planned a surprise (a first for me) birthday party for me. I couldn't have been more surprised. Especially when you think about how PISSED that she would have been if we had called her from the police station a few hours earlier.

Saturday, March 26, 2005

Who'da thought?

Headline: Wendy's sales drop off after finding finger in chili.

Imagine that.

Friday, March 25, 2005

Close Calls/Various Injuries

They say that commercial fishing is the 2nd most dangerous job in the world. While I may not agree with that assessment, it is no walk in the park. This will be a running sample(s) of my various unique experiences as a commercial fisherman.

Let's see. There was the time that we were 130 miles from home with a leaky stuffing box on the rudder.

A stuffing box is basically a hollow nut that contains a cotton-like packing that compresses down onto a shaft or a rudder where it comes through the hull (boat) to keep the water out.

fter one trip my buddy Derek, who was captain at the time, decided that he didn't need to fix the stuffing box while we were at the dock. So, later that night we headed out without a care in the world...or so I thought.

When we got to the fishing grounds I had noticed that we had water all over the deck. Now, the boat that I was on at the time never had ANY water at any time on the deck so I knew that something was wrong. I opened up the lazarette hatch (the hatch that opens into the space under the deck at the back of the boat) and saw that we had a shitload of water in there. Not only that, the bilge pump (the pump that pumps water out of a boat) had died. Now we were faced with a problem. We were 130 miles from home in a 15 foot sea during February with a sinking boat.

Not good.

The lazarette was approximately 22 feet wide by 15 feet long by 8 feet deep. Needless to say, it held a lot of water. Not only that, but we used to keep all of our spare rope in there. That proved to be a bit of a problem. Apparently, while the boat was filling up with water it was sloshing
the bags of rope around. The reason that it is significant is that the rope, combined with the shitty weather, caused the rope to wrap itself around the shaft of the rudder. With the rope around the rudder we couldn't screw the packing nut back down so we could stop the water from pouring in and save the boat from sinking.

The "Captain goes down with the ship" apparently didn't apply to my buddy Derek. While we were all staring down into the lazarette watching 2 foot waves go by ON THE INSIDE of the boat he says "I'm not fucking going down there!!"

My reply- Well, you're the idiot that didn't fix this at the dock after I told you about it

Derek- I don't care, I'm not going down there

Me- the last time that I checked you were still the captain

Derek- I don't care!

Me- you're a fucked it up, you fix it... if you don't we are going to sink right here and now

Derek- I don't care, let's sink

Me- seriously?!?!?!?

Derek- I'm not going down there

Me- You are simply amazing... don't worry, I'll fix it for you, you asshole!

Derek- Would you?

Me- you're a dick

So, then I jumped down there with a knife and a sense of purpose. Well, let's just say that the 36 degree water was a bit say the least. Not only that but the waves on the inside of the boat proved to be quite an obstacle. All I remember is freezing my ass off, reaching down as far as I could to cut the rope out by feel while trying to avoid dunking my head into the ass-freezing cold water. I did end up cutting the rope off of the stuffing box and screwing it back down so we didn't sink....but I didn't enjoy it. Not only were the waves inside the boat knocking me over, but I ended up with a good case of hypothermia that took the better part of the day for me to come out of.

After I got out of there it took Derek and the other crew member 6 hours to fix all of the shit that we destroyed. Like the auto-pilot, the hydraulic steering ram, the bilge pump and various other things. At least I got to chat away to other boats on the radio while they did it.

I never did get my hero's medal.


Another time that didn't end up being terribly dangerous, but quite startling happened on the way in one day....

We were on our way in after a hard night of catching slime eels, better known as hagfish when we had a problem. Our generator had been leaking a small amount of coolant for a few days and we hadn't had the chance to fix it yet, so it would shut off every now and then when it got low.

Well, after hauling gear all night I had retired to my bunk while letting one of my crew members take the helm on the way home. After what seemed to be a short nap, I awoke to him shaking me and saying "The generator died again."

I didn't think too much of it at the time and slowly stumbled up into the wheelhouse. While still rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, my crewmember said "Is there supposed to be all of that smoke coming out of the exhaust?"

Knowing that we shouldn't be emitting any smoke, I went outside to see for myself. As soon as I got out on deck, I knew that there was a BIG problem.

There was a cloud of white smoke billowing from the exhaust pipes like a bi-plane on a crop dusting run in Indiana.

Now wide awake, I immediately sprinted downstairs and opened up the engine room door to see what was going on. I was greeted with a thick, acrid, solid white cloud of smoke. I couldn't see 2 feet into the engine room!

I sprinted back upstairs (I'm not sure if I even hit a step on the way up) to shut the boat down. I woke up Chickenhawk (another crew member...I'll explain his nickname another time) and told him to get the life raft off and throw it over the side....just in case. We happened to be on a fiberglass boat and with the resin in fiberglass being made from petroleum, they tend to burn hot...and quick.

I stayed in the wheelhouse as long as I could radioing for some other boats to come and help us. At this point the smoke was unreal. You never realize how thick and stifling that it can be until you have experienced it.

To make a long story short...after 45 minutes the smoke started to clear up enough so I could get back into the wheelhouse with the aid of a respirator and see that we weren't still on fire. The problem ended up being a major generator fire with the 2" copper coils in the generator end looking like someone took an acetylene torch to them. Apparently the wash down hose (although ours was a pool pump) had a leak and squirted salt-water onto the generator end.

Water and electricity....not good.

Thursday, March 24, 2005

This is his menacing pose. He's about to strike.

So, there I was. Me and my buddy.

Wednesday, March 23, 2005

Everyone Go Away

If I see that video of Terri Schiavo and her feeding tube again, I'm going to kick the tv.... then shoot it. I'm not going to bore you with my opinion of that situation (there is a first time for everything) but jesus, give us a break already! That's just what I want to see all day every day.


I don't want to see and/or hear anymore daily reports about the nasty things that freak-of-the-week Michael Jackson "allegedly" has done to that boy. We don't need the details just tell us when he gets off (no pun intended) like all of the celebrities do.

Yeah, let's watch a drugged up Jackson stumble into court everyday, that'll make good tv.



Can someone put a tail-rope on Star Jones and tow her back out to sea where she belongs? She has irritated me since the first time that she filled up my tv screen a few years ago. I can't seem to get away from her. Every time I turn on the tv she is there somewhere. It's almost like she's addicted....maybe tv cameras smell like donuts.


I wish Letterman would just do the dignified thing and walk away. If he won't do that at least stop doing a top-ten list every night. Some of those jokes on there are just plain terrible. I remember when the list used to be funny and I would actually look forward to them every week. That show hasn't been funny for years and he looks like he doesn't even care anymore. I mean, c'mon...."Can it Float?"

Dave, that has to be THE MOST ASSININE thing that I have ever seen! And coming from me, that's saying something.


I see that some kid from Vermont won the Smelliest Sneakers in the US. His parents must be so proud.

How does something like this make news? Why would anyone want to start a contest like this? It's things like this that make other countries hate us.





How will I ever go on living?

Can I vote for the show and everyone involved in it to be shipped off to some remote island so we never have to see them again?

Can't Congress pass a law for this? Would anyone be against it?

Tuesday, March 22, 2005


I've been wanting to write something for the last few days but I can't seem to come up with anything. I do have plenty of subjects to write about, but none of them seem terribly interesting to me.

If you think of something, send it along.

Saturday, March 19, 2005

My Dream Car

Check this out.

I'll be accepting donations of any amount.

Thursday, March 17, 2005

The Scourge

And you guys think I'm crazy.

They are secretly trying to destroy our society.

Tuesday, March 15, 2005

If I go on a killing spree while babbling about Internet Explorer, ask the wife. She'll know why.

Go away..

....Martha Stewart.

She was quoted in the paper complaining about her ankle bracelet. She says that it can be quite irritating and that they should be more comfortable.

Yeah, we'll get right on it.

Maybe they can make one with a nice flower print on it for her.

I hear that turquoise is the "it color" this year.

What a bitch.

Monday, March 14, 2005

Random Irritations

HEADLINE: 4 out of 5 fatal accidents in Maine occur on rural roads


Maybe it's because 4 out of 5 of their roads ARE rural. Who writes this shit and how does it become a headline? I thought that headlines were usually reserved for somewhat-important stuff? I don't know, maybe I expect too much.


So, some poor bastard in NY comes home from work one day and notices a couple of large paint-like cans on the sidewalk in front of his house. He thought that maybe a road crew had left it and would return to pick it up the following morning. When they didn't he did what any responsible person would do. He picked it up so that the local kids couldn't get into it and possibly have something bad happen to them. Realizing that it was some sort of industrial strength paint thinner that you can't purchase in stores, he calls the city to let them know that he has picked it up and it is now in his possession. They send out someone to his home the next day and what do they do? They tell him that he has to pay $500 to have a HAZ-MAT company take it away or pay a $5,000 a day fine. Five thousand dollars!! If he doesn't comply he will have a lien put on his house by the city.

This is a perfect example of how FUCKED UP everything has become. Everyone is so worried about who is liable for this and who is liable for that that all common sense has gone RIGHT OUT THE FUCKING WINDOW!! The guy was doing them a favor by picking it up. He could have dumped it in a sewer or in some empty lot while possibly contaminating someone's well...but he didn't. And now he is getting fucked for doing the right thing. What a world that we live in.

And people wonder why some people snap and go on killing sprees.


There is a some seafood convention going on in Boston right now. Apparently it is quite the big deal in the industry. They have companies there showing off the latest and greatest from all over the world.

Well, one of those companies was interviewed this morning on TV and they raise organic fish.



I'll just gloss over the absurdity of that statement and move on to how they described their product. Now, this was what the company representative was saying, verbatim, on how his product is different from fish caught by fishermen.

"Well, it's an organic fish. It is fed food that is made from other fish. It is given no antibiotics. No growth hormones. It is raised in real ocean water."

Really? Wow, that's so unlike REAL FISH!! You know, the ones that are in their element at the bottom of the fucking ocean!! While eating other REAL FISH!! Not taking any growth hormones or antibiotics like REAL FISH DO!!

The best part was when they cooked up some of their fish and some store bought stuff and no one could tell the difference. The only people that picked what tasted better picked the fish caught by fisherman, for you.

Even better is that it will cost 30-35% MORE than fresh fish caught by a local fisherman.

No sense supporting the little man. Buy their inferior product for MORE money and support the corporation.


That'll sell them on the product, boys.

ps- for all you religious people out there, Jesus was a gillnetter....just thought that I'd mention it


That last little post made me think of this...

You know what pisses me off more than anything? People that make some sort of stand based on something that they have read or heard and they take it as fact.

That Organic Fish Rep. said on live TV that Cod is an endangered species. That has to be one of the most ludicrous things that I have ever heard. Check the list for yourself. It's not even threatened. Jesus, I hate that shit! Some tree-hugging-dirt-worshipper will be watching that over their organic coffee with hand-stroked cream and think that it's a fact. Subsequently, they won't eat Cod because "All the commercial fisherman are raping the ocean!!" Then they'll hop into their SUV and drive the 50 miles (one way) at 8 miles per gallon of gas to Jr's private school all the while listening to Al Franken tell the world that anything that he doesn't agree with must be killing the world.

That also reminds me of some hippie group that was trying to save an endangered rock or something in (surprise!) California a few years ago. Here they are trying to save the world and they use a helicopter to do the survey. It is the single worst machine on earth, as far as fuel consumption and releasing noxious gasses, that you can find. What a bunch of jackasses.


I hate people who take one point of view without ever considering the other(s). People who are afraid to voice their own opinion about anything. They take one side, and that's it. You know, like republicans. (That was for you Momma-cod and Wheel Gun Bob...don't get used to it)

I have several views that straddle both political lines and I don't push them on anyone unless asked. Except for here and now. You know why? Because it's my blog and if you don't like it, DON'T READ IT!! (you know who you are) So, skip this part if you don't want to read it.

I hunt and fish and I'm damn proud of it. If you don't like it, I don't care. I didn't ask for your opinion so keep it to yourself.

I'm pro gun but not fanatically so. I don't think that everyday people need a M16 for anything (although I would LOVE to have one).

I'm pro-choice as well. For anyone to think that they can tell a woman what they can and cannot do with their bodies is just plain dumb. Shut up before I bitch-slap you.

I loved the tax check that ole Dubya sent my way a few years ago but I thought that it was the wrong thing to do.

I haven't ever done any illegal drugs but I think that they should be legalized.... and heavily taxed.

I hate seagulls and I know that they do a useful job. But I don't care. I wish they had a season on the annoying bastards. I would kill every one that I could.

I hunt for ducks but I will be the first one to feed and/or save one if in need. Hell, I actually wanted to chase a guy down last year that ran one over intentionally while she was walking her brood of 6 ducklings across the street. The wife stopped me. I don't think that I have ever wanted to pound on someone so bad in my life. Man, I'm getting pissed just thinking about it.

I'd better go.

If you don't agree with me about anything and would like to have an intelligent debate about it, feel free to email me. Don't be scared.

Saturday, March 12, 2005

The Bronco part III, I think

When I used to drive anywhere, I was always on the lookout for new trails. If I saw any opening into the woods or a field at all, I would veer straight off the road and go flying down it. I gave my fellow travelers a few tense moments because they were never sure when I would be charging off the road into some abyss. You haven't lived until your best friend's head has gone from talking to being smashed off his window instantly.

Now, I have mentioned some of my disasters while driving down some train tracks before. Luckily, this was a different area about 15 miles north of that colossal fuckup.

Billy and I were out cruising around looking for shit to drive into/over during a snowstorm when we came across a trail that ran parallel to some train tracks. It was a trail that we knew was usually blocked by some big-ass rocks, but someone had moved them. We couldn't possibly pass up an opportunity to go down a new trail and smash up my truck some more, could we?

So, off we went.

As we were tearing down the trail, we came upon a windfall (a tree that has been blown down by the wind) that was lying across the trail. The tree was just long enough to keep us from going around it and it was about three feet off of the ground, so (theoretically) we couldn't go over it. Billy conceded defeat, but I had other ideas. I figured that I could put the nose of the truck against the tree, hit the gas, snap it in half and off we would go on our merry way.

It didn't work out quite that way that I had planned.

We eased the nose against the (larger than I thought) tree and hit the gas. The tree bent a bit and then stopped us in our tracks. Now, me being a complete and total moron, I didn't realize that I should back off and go home unscathed. I figured that I would remedy the situation by stomping on the gas pedal.

Not too smart.

The tree flew over the front end, smashed into my side of the windshield and then went through the side window directly behind me. Now, when I say it went through, I mean IT WENT THROUGH. The tree was so far into the truck that it ended up being within 18 inches of the window on THE OTHER side of the truck. If that fucker went through the driver’s window like it should have, I would still be drinking my dinner through a straw. Probably Billy as well.

Now, I had a conundrum.

My choices were either

A) keep going forwards and risk ripping apart what little side window that I had left while also risking not being able to get back

B) reverse and have the tree come through my driver's side window this time

C) stop where we were, walk to a phone and call someone with a chainsaw to come into my truck and cut the tree out of it (the smart thing)

I chose B.

Luckily the tree ripped out and didn't smash out my window but it did rip my driver's side mirror right out of the door.

Now, I was stuck in Portsmouth on a Sunday morning during a snowstorm with no money and a 3' x 18" window smashed out. It was more than enough room to fill my truck full of snow. Luckily after some scrambling we found a place in Exeter that worked on Sundays. They threw a chunk of plexiglass into the frame just to keep the snow out. That was only after they broke two other panes before getting the 3rd in and charging me for all of them.

Oh well, it could have been worse. I could have a tree for a face. (insert joke here)


Another time we were charging around a sand pit in the Bronco having a hell of a time. We were hitting jumps, whoop-de-do’s and several other obstacles at high speeds.

Now, we had been in this pit before but there had always been one hill that we could never seem to make it up no matter how hard we tried. The hill lined one whole side and was 200’ in height with about a forty-five degree incline. It was a steep bastard. In the past we would always make the first 100-150 feet or so but we would run out of steam before we reached the top and would have to back down. Backing down that incline wasn’t much fun either, but that’s another story.

Well, I don’t know why but I was bound and determined to make this time different. With the pit being about 600-700 yards long before the incline, I planned on using every single inch of it. (insert ANOTHER joke here, B-face)

I backed up to the furthest edge of the pit and stomped on the gas. We got up to about 35mph or so before we hit the incline. With that speed and the incline, we hit pretty hard but the old girl kept chugging right along. We got about ¾ of the way up when she started to bog down in the sand. Then it was like the hand of the Bronco God gave us better traction. The tires connected on something and we instantly shot up to the top of the hill. We had so much speed combined with the incline that when we hit the peak, the truck became airborne. When we crashed down and got our bearings, we had a bit of a surprise.

We were in a (nicely manicured) field of green.

We ended up landing right in someone’s back yard. Not only that, but he was sitting on his back porch about forty feet away.

The guy was probably content as hell while sitting there on a nice summer afternoon with his feet up and an umbrella drink in his hand until this giant piece-of-shit Bronco came flying up over the hill and into his yard.

He just sat there staring at us with his jaw hanging open and a "surprised as fuck" look on his face while the dust settled all around him.

It was funny as hell but we didn’t stick around to get a second look.

Friday, March 11, 2005

Pam Smart and Me

I was flipping through the channels the other day when I saw an "American Justice" episode on A&E (I think) that was about Pam Smart and her boy-toy. It was kind of weird seeing that again because I not only knew her, I knew all the kids involved as well. That, and The Codfather was Chief of Detectives at the time so he would always fill me in on what was going on.

I'll never forget watching her on TV the night that her husband was found dead. I watched it with The Codfather who said at its conclusion "Something's not right. This is going to be a strange one and she's involved somehow." Boy, he hit that nail on the say the least.

The first time that I ever met her was when she came into my English class to explain about a course that she was going to be teaching the next year. I wasn't terribly interested in taking it, but she was better looking than any of the hags, lesbians and hippies that we had for other teachers so I listened. Except for that one who taught something somewhere near the art room. I didn't care what she did, I just enjoyed looking at her. Man, she was hot! Oops, digressing again....

Well, after Mrs. Smart finished her spiel about her upcoming course, she left and I didn't give it anymore thought. As we were leaving the English room, she was waiting in the hallway.

She said, "Are you The Cod God?"

I said "Yup" (notice the Rico-Suave response)

Mrs. Smart "I really would like you to be in my class next year"

My reply (looking her up and down) "Sure. What was it again?"

After that we socialized a few times but never anything like she was doing with her boy-toy. That poor bastard never had a chance. When I heard it was him that was involved, I couldn't believe it. I'll tell you one thing, there isn't a woman in the world worth killing for. (Well, maybe Salma Hayek) I would have just nailed the bitch and left. But that's just me.

During the trial, my friend Derek's mother was the bailiff for her. Apparently they have to have a woman with a woman prisoner. Anyways, they were chatting one day during lunch and Derek's mother mentioned that she knew me. Pam says, "Oh, tell him that I said Hi!" She should have been worrying about something else like say, oh, I don’t know….HER TRIAL! What a weird chick. She certainly is a cold-hearted one. She still denies her involvement to this day.

As far as the kids that were involved are concerned, I had a few of them in my classes but we were acquaintances at best. I did work with one of their fathers for a stretch. I felt bad for him. That trial about wrecked him. Oh well, that's my cheery story for the day.

Monday, March 07, 2005

Dr. Cod, Rocket Scientist

Here's one that will surprise you, I used to be (and I probably still am) a bit of a pyromaniac.

I know, shocking.

Not a Burn-Down-the-Local-Church pyro, but just an I-enjoy-a-good-fire kind. Geez, looking back at my past blogs I'm sure it will be hard to see where I got that from....right, Uncle Bob?.

It was a love first born out of necessity....the necessity to not be bored. The bad things would always happen when I had nothing else to do. What the hell is that saying? "Idle hands are the Devil's playground" Well, whoever came up with that certainly had me in mind.

After spending a night over at my buddy Derek's house, we found ourselves with nothing to do and no one to do it with. While I was sitting there bored out of my mind, I noticed a bottle of something on the coffee table. Being the inquisitive type I picked the bottle up to see what its contents may have been. It ended up being some kind of liquid furniture polish. Being none too impressed with that, I chucked it back at the table. While it was still rolling around I noticed those magical words that make every bored pyro's life worth living... :FLAMMABLE: Keep away from open flame.

Well, now we had something to do. With a renewed sense of purpose I decided to test how flammable this polish really was, for educational purposes only. I am a scholar first, pyro second.

But, what to burn? After the usual suspects like the neighbor's house,
a homeless person, a seagull, a boat, and the neighbor's lawn, we decided to do something else altogether.

Now, I had heard that you could make a good, if not spectacular, jet engine out of nothing more than a 2-liter soda bottle and some fuel. After some searching we discovered that we had both of those things. Oh joy!

We set off to conduct some experiments before the big launch. After all, NASA didn't just strap the astronauts to a pile of jet fuel and send them on their way. They always tested before the big launch and being the serious rocket scientists that we are, we would too.

These are the actual notes taken from my paper that was published in New Scientist Magazine in the fall of 1989. I hope that the terms aren't too scientific for you civilians to understand.

Test #1 (date and location REMOVED for National Security purposes)

approximately 1/2 cup of furniture polished poured into 2-Liter bottle
dropped match into bottle
ran like hell
realized that hand was getting hot
dropped bottle from hand
ran like hell to get ice for burned hand

RESULT: one half-melted bottle and one burned hand

Test #2

another 1/2 cup of furniture polish poured into bottle along with some rubbing alcohol for fun
dropped match into bottle
ran like hell
much better ignition this time
no sustained burn
needs more flammable liquid

RESULT: nice "whump" noise with flash, melted bottle

Test #3

dumped what was left of furniture polish into new 2-liter bottle along with half-bottle of alcohol and with a healthy shot of WD-40
My assisstant can light this one
Watched assisstant jump back in horror as bottle shoots flame at his face as soon as the match got close
good mix
bottle shot across the ground about 8 feet
needs more fuel if we are to realize our dream of going into outer space this afternoon

RESULT: we're close, needs more aerosol products

Test #4

dumped everything flammable that we could find into bottle
sprayed WD-40 and hairspray into bottle for approximately 30 seconds at the same time
I will give my assisstant the honor of lighting this one as well
nice "whoosh" with little movement of bottle
something wrong, it can't be out of fuel yet
Assisstant picks up bottle, says "All Clear"

The next thing I remember seeing was a blinding flash accompanied with a very loud "whump" noise. After the smoke cleared I had regained enough of my senses to check if I still had all of my body parts attached. Luckily, I did. But, while doing that I realized that there was a glob of something on the arm of my brand new coat and it was burning a hole right through it. While I was putting it out I hear Derek behind me....

Derek- Colin.....Colin...

Me- (ignoring him)

Derek- Colin!....little help?

Me- um hmm..

Derek- Colin....I need some help here!!

Me- fuck you, you burned my new coat you asshole!

Derek- Fuck your coat...

Me- (interrupting) great, now I have to go buy a new one, thanks a lot


Well, that got my attention. I turn around and see flames about 8' high going up the side of his house.
I stand there looking at it while thinking "Wow, that fire sure is getting big now. I hope that lilac bush doesn't catch, That would be bad. Look at Derek swatting at the fire with a rake. What a dumbass."

After Derek yells at me one more time, I snap out of it long enough to smartly jump in there to stomp the fire out. Once in there, I quickly realize that it I probably shouldn't be standing in the middle of a fire that is bigger than me. Not one of my brighter moments.

After jumping out and running around in circles for a few minutes to see if my ass was on fire, I notice an old shed nearby. I ran over, kicked in the door for effect
(it was open) and grabbed an old carpet that was in there. I dragged it over, we threw it on the fire and that corralled it fairly quickly.

Luckily he had this "drop cellar" type thing that is basically just a square hole in the ground that is lined with cinder blocks that allows access to under the house. That contained most of the fire but it didn't keep the siding from getting a bit charred. After assuring him that it would "scrub right off", I decided that it would be a wise time to go home. Even if I had to walk.

Unfortunately, I didn't make the "Young Scientist" program at NASA. I think it was a political thing.

Sunday, March 06, 2005


As seen on tonights Simpsons...

Tom Brady being wheeled onto the field with a banner that says "Everyone sucks but me!"

He hit that one on the head.

Saturday, March 05, 2005

Enough is enough

Martha Stewart can go away now.

I've seen enough.

Friday, March 04, 2005

Little Known Facts

To totally rip-off my buddy Duke Crevanator, I'll fill you little minions on a few unknown (to some) facts about me....

I met my wife when I was 16 after her friends Porsche broke down across the street where I was drinking. She "dated" a friend of mine first. Don't let the Porsche thing fool you, we're broke.

I have three kids and they all suck! Nah, just kidding. We have two boys, one girl. My boys are 12 and 7. My daughter is just about 5. Mark my words, she will rule the world someday and you'd better get on her good side now.

I once made $5400.00 in one day of commercial fishing.

I also once made negative money one day while commercial fishing.

I stand @ 5'11" and a rippling 205lbs....I didn't say rippling with what.

A little advice....if you can get a chick and/or a guy that digs you for you, stick with them. There are a lot of psychos out there. Trust me. It's a good thing that "my boys" swam straight 13 years ago.

I have spent over a month (total) of my life in a hospital with various ailments. That may not seem like much until you actually have to do it. The only redeeming quality about my stay(s) is that it introduced me to opiates in all their various forms.

I have never had a (serious) job that didn't involve a creature that lived in the sea and the harvesting of said creature. Go ahead, call PETA; I'll shoot their asses. Don't worry; I won’t be using lead bullets, that would damage the environment and that would be wrong. Some retarded Loon could eat it and we wouldn’t want that. I'll use copper-jacketed bullets instead. Hey, I’m good like that. Environment is my middle name.

Speaking of morons like that....why don't you ask PETA or the Sierra Club how many acres of marshland that they have preserved during their existence and compare it to what Ducks Unlimited (notice the .org you hippie bastards) has done? It won't even be close. Fisherman and Hunters preserve more animal life every year than any little "hippie club" has ever done. I really think that we should have an open hunting season on hippies. There is no use for them...they smell.

Yeah, yeah, I'm digressing....

I own several thousand baseball cards and they are worth a lot of $$. Unfortunately the value went down after going to the hospital for a dislocated shoulder. Thanks Mrs. Cod.

Some of my favorite bands include Iron Maiden, Dire Straits, The Queers with the only lineup that ever mattered...Joe, Hugh (rest in peace), and Bface, The Animals,
The Tunnel Rats, The Groovie Ghoulies, and Van Halen. Yes, an eclectic say the least. That's not including my N.W.A./EZ-E and Tupac stuff. Johnny Cash could be thrown in there as well. To quote my buddy Billy " I like anything that doesn't suck."

I once went over 50 hours working non-stop on the boat as we caught over 30,000 lbs in two days. Half of it was Mackerel. A big one is 12". Yeah, yeah (insert joke here).

We once had Grant Jennings, who was a pro hockey player, on the boat a month after he knocked Cam Neely out of the playoffs. Being a HUGE hockey fan at the time, I was ready to give him shit until I saw the size of him.
I'll tell one thing, he was one big motherfucker. I wasn't quite so tough after I saw him.

There was one thing about him that I would LOVE to pass along. He was quite irritated with the Puerto Rican family next to him. I'm not sure why, but I'm just sayin'....

I own 3 12-gauge shotguns. One Benelli, one Remington and the first one that I was ever given by Winchester 1300.

I also own two .22 rifles... this is one of them and the best part about it is that the wife gave it to me. There is another greatest gift of all time....
my Glock .40 caliber semi-auto handgun.

I also own one 3X9 (variable) scoped .30-06 rifle , one .38 special revolver, a .50 caliber muzzleloader, one Beeman spring-piston pellet gun and a couple of other BB-guns. Make your own conclusions. That doesn't even include the spudgun or the stuff that I blow up on a regular basis.

Warren Zevon
wrote"The Wind" while he was dying from cancer and wacked out on liquid morphine. I don't care of you like his music or not, that is an amazing feat.

Thursday, March 03, 2005

New Blog

To keep the Red Sox daily rants on this site to a minimum for all you non-Red Sox fans out there, I have started a Red Sox blog. If you are interested, you can see the link to the lower right.

- Cod

ps- if you don't like the Sox, then you suck

Wednesday, March 02, 2005

Booze, Mud and Tang

One morning after getting the shit beat out of us by the ocean the owner's wisely cancelled all of the afternoon trips. This was a great thing. Whenever we got any time off from fishing it always meant one! Well, drinking....same thing.

We hung around for a while on the boat to suck down a few rum and cokes and then put the boats away for the day. When we got back in, we all decided to pile into my Bronco and head back to the Love Shack. Since it was a 2-minute drive, I just had to make it interesting. There is a small half-moon shaped beach that rings the 5 houses that were built between our dock and another. In my altered-state, it looked like the perfect shortcut! Well, we got across the beach part ok but I got us stuck while trying to climb a rock wall. After backing up and smashing into the rock wall a few times to knock it down, we were on our way.

We got to the love shack without anymore mishaps and had a few more drinks. Figuring that since it was rainy and windy there was going to be little chance of scoping some Betties anytime soon. So, what were 8 half drunk guys to do on a crappy summer afternoon? Find a place to go drinking!

We settled on this Chinese food place called Tang's because they were known to serve underage people (me) and they had the strongest drinks around. That was a good enough reason for moi.

When we stumbled in, we must have been a sight because all of us still had our fishing clothes on. Ratty t-shirts, jeans stained with fish blood and knee-high rubber boots. It was probably a good thing that the place was empty because they probably would have turned us away for fear of us offending any of the other patrons. Looking back they probably wish that they would have done it that time, as well.

They seated us in a remote area of the restaurant and we proceeded to order. Everyone was ordering mai-tai's and scorpion bowls so I just followed suit when my turn came. The waiter never even blinked. I couldn't believe that no one got carded and the oldest one of us was 22. I had finally found my people!!

It was fairly calm for the first half of the meal but the boys got a little riled up as the empty scorpion bowls piled up. A couple of small food fights broke out and a couple of chairs were overturned. I decided that it was time to leave while I was walking back from the buffet
and my buddy Timmy Poole thought that it would be a good idea to do his best Lawrence Taylor imitation and tackle me from behind. Chicken fingers, teriyaki steak and two drunken fishermen went tumbling in every direction. I was saying "Check, please!" before I even hit the ground.

After dropping $400 on lunch and another $200 at the liquor store, we headed in the general direction of home. Somehow, and as always happens, the topic got onto me being a giant homo and driving a pussy truck that wasn't tough enough to make it through a mud puddle.

Now, you can call me what you want but you don't insult a man's truck. I had to defend her honor!

That must have been quite a site. 8 guys wrestling in a Bronco while it drove down Rte 1 careening into oncoming traffic. How we didn't crash and die, I'll never know.

Well, after the skirmish I had to show the boys what the old girl could do [insert joke here] and there just happened to be a place right nearby where we could have some fun. Incidentally it is the same place where I had once driven through a river. What I had failed to mention in the previous post is that there is a fork in the trail and it was a well-known fact that you always went right, never left. With a belly full of MSG and rum and a head full of rocks, I went left. I was going to show these moron's just what the old Bronco was capable of.

Now, I had been left once before and I had only driven about 100 feet before I got stuck. Luckily, I got out that time with no problems but I did get out to take a look at the trail for future reference and it didn't look so tough. The first part consisted of a few sharp turns, some decent mud and a few rocks. It then turns into a long straightaway that goes right through a clear-cut that the electric company had put in to access the power lines nearby. At the end of the straightaway there was a beaver pond that was always flooded and surrounded by DEEP mud. But if you stayed away from that, overall, it didn't look like it could be too bad. Right?

Well, we went flying around the corners, crashed through the mud and rocks and hit the straightaway. I cruised right on past where I got stuck before, got a boost of confidence and picked up some speed. It was right after I said to everyone "This isn't so tough" that I heard a loud smash and we came to a sudden stop with everyone ending up in the front seat piled up on each other. After getting my face unstuck from the windshield and someone’s arm out of my ass, I tried to get the truck (you pervs) unstuck to no avail.

Well, time to get out and see what’s up....

Me- (looking under the truck) aw shit... I fucked up good this time

Tim-(slurring) nah, we'll get it unstuck!

Ed- yeah, use his floor mats!

(before I could say no they took out all of my floor mats and ripped the carpet from the trunk)

3 minutes later....

(now I am the proud owner of muddy floor mats and carpet, which they just throw back into the truck)

Tim- I saw a come-a-long when I ripped the carpet out of the truck, grab that

Me- No, there isn't a tree within 200 yards

Ed- ok, Tim ( grabs it and drops it into the mud immediately)...the cable seems stuck

Tim- I'll help you (breaks a piece off)

Me- (looking at the ground shaking my head) I gotta get new friends

(5 minutes pass while I weigh my options and everyone else tries to see who can drink the most Yukon Jack.....then I heard a voice)

Tim- I have something that'll work!

While I was pondering how I got myself into yet another dumbass situation, Tim had wandered off looking for something to get us out when he came across a fence. For some strange reason he thought that he was going to get us out with that. He had ripped down a 30' chunk of it and was now dragging it towards us with a huge shit-eating grin on his face.

Me- where did you get that?

Tim- (pointing) that house over there

Me- the one that we're going to have to ask to borrow their phone?

Tim- um.....oh

Me- (sighing) how is that going to work?

Tim- (smiling again) we'll pry the truck out!

Me- with what? the rotten 2x4's or the chicken wire dragging behind you?

Tim- (looking behind him) chicken wire?, we'll rap that around the tires!

Me- please don't

Right about then Ed came walking up dragging another large section of the same fence.

Ed- Let's do it!

Me- No, really, don't

Tim-(ignoring me) fuck him, Ed, we'll show him how we do it in Mass, let's go

With no other choice, I sat back with a drink and watched them single handedly not only dig my truck in deeper but puncture a tire with chicken wire and snap off my exhaust with a 2x4. After the exhaust incident, I couldn't bear to watch anymore. I figured the best idea would be to wander over to the house and ask to borrow their phone to call a friend of mine who owns a giant-ass truck with a winch on it.

As I walked up I didn't know if they saw Tim and Ed dismantling their property or not and I was hoping that they wouldn't answer their door with a shotgun or a pitchfork. Luckily, some chick answered...without any weapons. She warily cracked the door about 2 inches and asked me what I wanted. I calmly explained my plight and said that I would happily pay for my phone call. It was after I mentioned money that they agreed to let me use it. They opened the door, threw a cordless at me and slammed it shut. I can't say that I blamed them. I was covered in mud with bloody clothes on while reeking of fish and alcohol. They probably thought that I was out there burying my fishing buddy/gay lover.

Either way, I got Jeff and his giant truck out to the scene. While he was there I was trying to act all sober and responsible. The reason being that he just happens to be the son of my Dad's best friend while also being a neighbor and I didn't want him ratting me out. Well, he wasn't buying it and he was charging me $50 to get me out, the bastard. So much for friends.

After some debate, I shoved the quivering pile of mud and booze formerly known as my friends into the truck and hooked up the cable winch to the rear of my truck.
Right as I hopped in to steer, Jeff thought it would be funny to turn into Mario-Fucking-Andretti!! We were instantly going backwards at what seemed like 100mph but was probably more like 40. All the while his giant tires were throwing baseball-sized chunks of mud all over my truck. While holding on for dear life I noticed mud accumulating on the inside of my windshield and I couldn't figure out why it was there. Oh look, it's coming in from behind me! Apparently, one of the idiots had opened my window in the tailgate earlier and never closed it. My head was being pelted with mud the whole time we were going backwards and everyone else was giggling like schoolgirls while ducking. Not good times.

I thought that Jeff would stop pulling after he got us clear of the straightaway, but NOOOOOO. HE just had to show us how badass his truck was. He took us through trees, over ledges and across rocks. I swear we completely rolled a few times. Once we got to the street, he got out to unhook my truck, smiled, and drove away slowly.

I went home and changed my underwear while swearing I would never go left again.

Just call me Rush.

I hate hippies

I really do.

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