The Cod God Speaketh

There is no God

2006-03-21T21:54:00.000-05:00

First Willie, now this!

You know, it's not like Little V was looking for $10 million.

He is signing for $2.5 a year with a $3.5 million signing bonus. Hell, that's a tight end or a backup running back.

Not exactly breaking the bank, especially when you factor in the extra money added to the salary cap this year.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

It's all my fault too.

You see, for years I refused to get a jersey of any player that I liked because the first couple that I got when I was a kid led to the players leaving town in short order.

I didn't want to doom him.

That was, until this last Christmas.

The Cod Gal and all my little heathens have wanted to get me a Vinatieri jersey for some time now, but I had always refused opting for other gifts. This year I finally relented.

My thinking was that they would never let an icon like Little V go. After 10 years and the 3 or 4 greatest kicks of all time he should have been safe.

Yeah, I nailed that one on the head.

Fuck.

- Cod

ps- I think it's a safe bet that I won't be getting a Big V (Jason Varitek) jersey for my birthday

Money, Money, Mo-ney!!

2006-03-21T20:35:00.000-05:00

Well, I'm not quite the $6 million dollar man. I'm more like the $82,000 man.

(Actually, if you figure in the first surgery, I'm around $115,000)

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As you have probably figured, I received the bill for my latest back surgery.

$82, 425.71.

Not bad for a few days in the hospital.

Here is a little bit of the breakdown...

$39,207.69 for "surgical supply"... whatever that is.

I'm assuming that it was for the surgery itself. That probably includes all of the titanium, stainless steel and whatever else it is that they left/forgot inside of me.

$19,726.74 for the operating room.

Let's see, with me being in there for 7 hours that breaks down to about $2,818.11 an hour. Not bad work if you can get it.

And this part is for all you druggies out there....

$7,499.15 in morphine, demerol, ms contin, narco, flexeril, and methadone. That was for only 3 days.

(And you thought that your habit was pricey)

Next time I'll need to do a few "favors" to keep the price down.

more later....

- Cod

Not yet

2006-03-02T09:17:00.000-05:00

Well, I'm still here. It seems that no matter how many fistfulls of painkillers I gobble, I still snap out of it and awake to another day in paradise.

Yesterday was a particularly good day at the Cod Mansion. Apparently the fruit of my loins decided it would be the proper time to get Daddy-O to consider how much he could garner for each child on the blackmarket.

Better yet! I'll start my own birth control company. Anytime that a new couple considers having a child, they must spend a day with my kids. It's safe to say that the population of this country would take a serious hit.

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Well, it's almost time for another appointment with one of the dude's that pieced me back together. Speaking of Doctor Feelgood, he was recently filmed while holding a discourse on the human body, how it is assembled and his experience with it. It's very informative and helps to explain why I am the way I am.

Take a minute, check it out and learn something.

You can check it out for yourself here.

(thanks to Duke Crevanator for discovering and passing along the clip)

- Cod

One Tough Chick

2006-02-22T08:57:00.000-05:00

I wouldn't want to mess with this lady. She probably eats raw meat for breakfast.

Could you imagine being her husband/boyfriend?

"I want sex.. now!"

"Ok, ok, ok. Please don't kill me!"

We have the technology to rebuild this man

2006-02-16T09:09:00.000-05:00

Cod Nation, relax.

You can all now exhale, break up the prayer groups, blow out the candles at the vigil, take down the shrine and otherwise get back to your daily lives.

I'm on the mend.

I know that you're all relieved.

- Cod

That's one small fillet

2006-01-26T10:51:00.000-05:00

It's a good thing that I never had to catch these for a living.

They would be a bitch to gut.

- Cod

Yes, please

2006-01-25T19:46:00.000-05:00

0-60 in 2.5 seconds....

I'll be taking donations all week.

Throw on some armor and a couple .50 caliber machine guns and we might just have something.

- Cod

BS day, 2 February 2006

2006-01-23T18:30:00.000-05:00

Well, the doctors finally explained exactly what they plan on doing to the ole Cod God on BS (back surgery) day, 2 february 2006.

First, they plan on hacking into my back through my old scar from my first back surgery, a microdiscectomy. The only difference being that instead of a few inches, it will be around 5 or 6 because they need to be able to get at my hip/tail bone area.

Once they get in, they have to cut away all of the scar tissue that has built up (which is the major problem pain-wise for me) around the nerve. After that, they will actually pry my vertebrae apart with a pry-bar and free up the nerve completely. My disc has completely collapsed and pinched the nerve, so they need to free it up and get that height back.

You'd think that they would be done after all of that joy and fun but no, they need to remove my collapsed disc completely and then stuff two carbon-fiber cages into where the disc used to be as well. They actually use a hammer to whack those bad boys into place.

That is all part of a spinal fusion, which most of you have heard of.

After the man with the hammer finishes up (probably some jabrone from Labor Ready), out come the cordless drills!!

Yeehaw!!

They will hold everything together with 4 screws and a couple of brackets. All are made out of titanium, of course. I don't want no stinkin' stainless steel.

Anyways, after all of that is done (4-6 hours later) I get to go up to my room.

They say that I'll be able to walk, at least a few steps, the next day. After my last surgery, I would have to say that that is quite optimistic, but we'll have to wait and see.

They also say that I can go home a few days later if I want to, but there is no rush... whatever that means.

And after only 5-6 months, I should be all better!!

That's all?

- Cod

Just plain nasty.

2006-01-22T11:58:00.000-05:00

As if this shit wasn't gross enough...

- Cod

I'm in love

2006-01-21T17:35:00.000-05:00

Will my man-crush ever cease on this man?

Yet another reason why I wear his shirt proudly and secretly wish to be his wife.

Epping is only 15-20 minutes away from here. If it weren't for that damned restraining order....

- Cod

ps- I'll either be his wife or be him... I'll take either

Good times

2006-01-16T10:11:00.000-05:00

Well, its another cold morning here in NH (9 degrees) and I am awaiting the first of 6 or 7 Dr's appointments this week.

Why so many you ask? (I know no one asked, or cares, but I'm gonna tell you anyways so shut up) I get to have the pleasure of having more back surgery.

Woohoo.

The first back surgery that I had was relatively minor in nature compared to this upcoming clusterfuck. All they did was go in and trim a little of this, cut a little of that, and find the various pieces of my disc that had shattered.

This time they are going to need a few power tools to get the job done.

A quick aside... you'd think that they would use some sort of special medical-quality type drill to do it. But no, they have a regular old Dewalt cordless drill just like the one I use to build shit with. I don't know if one should be a bit worried when you are just starting to fall asleep from the anesthesia and you hear "Hey, where the hell is my 1/2 drill bit? I just got it yesterday at Sears."

Anyways, what they are going to do to me first is to hack me open and start prying shit apart. Yup, thats the exact words that the doc used.... "pry your spine apart."

That doesn't sound like it's a good thing for me, now does it?

The reason that they have to do that is because my disc has completely collapsed and they need to remove it. They'll get right in there and pry my spine apart so they can take out whats left of the ruined disc and replace it with a bone plug. Oh yeah, that "bone plug" is a chunk of bone that they will get by sawing it from my hip.

Good times.

You'd think that would be enough, but nope. There's more.

Also, they will be putting in some sort of titanium cage that'll keep everything in there together and contained.

Then there is a disc fusion that has to be done as well. I'm not sure if that was part of the whole "pry and plug" aspect that I talked about earlier. I'll find out on Wednesday when the surgery will be explained to me in more detail.

So, now it's off for a physical to see if I'm "surgery ready" or some shit like that. Then it's off to give blood (twice) so we'll have some on standby "just in case", as they say.

I don't know, anything that requires you giving up a couple pints of the ole "life juice" ahead of time can't be a good thing.

That's about it for now.... more later.

- Cod

If you're gonna go...

2006-01-10T15:42:00.000-05:00

... take out something along the way.

This was one pissed of mouse.

And no, I haven't stopped laughing yet.

- Cod

My Relatives

2005-12-06T11:17:00.000-05:00

I guarantee you that this guy is somehow related to me.

He has to be!

No one else besides me has luck like this.

Actually, I probably would have received a bill from the city for the streetcleaner that had to come by and clean up my blood.

On the opposite end of the spectrum...

Wheel Gun, it sounds like one of your band members hit the barn after the show.

- Cod

Too funny

2005-11-22T14:19:00.000-05:00

I like how they itemized the extra $225,000.

- Cod

one autumn day

2005-11-21T20:48:00.000-05:00

It was late in the 4th quarter, the score was 6-3 and Pocket Cod's team was losing.

Pocket Cod's team had the ball on the 1 yard line and it was 4th down. The clock showed that there was only one measely second left.

The crowd was going crazy, but Pocket Cod remained calm. He knew what he had to do. He had to get across that goal line. The goal line that was so close, but so far away.

Pocket Cod had been working for this since he was old enough to play football. He had been dreaming about this moment all of his life.

There he goes. Across the goal line and into the end zone.

He scored.

He scored in the Superbowl to win the game.

THE END

by,

Pocket Cod (with some help from Cod)

Tommy Cool

2005-11-21T09:46:00.000-05:00

In four-and-a-half years as an NFL starter, New England quarterback Tom Brady has never lost two games in a row.

--------------

Also, Bill Belichick's father, Steve Belichick, died Saturday night.

How Bill even coached yesterday is beyond me. Although, with Dad having been a coach, I'm sure that's what he would have wanted.

Here is a good article on Dad by the always great Bob Ryan of the Boston Globe.

--------------

There is no way that people can be so stupid that this could possibly work. Well, then again.... American Idol is a hit.

- Cod

Domino!

2005-11-16T15:23:00.000-05:00

He had it coming.

- Cod

My Patriots

2005-11-14T19:05:00.000-05:00

a few things that were "borrowed" from Peter King's MMQB column...
(a must-read for any true football fan)

STAT OF THE WEEK I

Want to know why the balance of power in the AFC has turned upside down?

Games missed by defensive starters due to injury in 2005:
Indianapolis (9-0): 2
New England (5-4): 31

An Indy asterisk: Joseph Jefferson was slated to start at the safety spot now manned by Mike Doss, but he has been sidelined with a toe injury. I don't count him because Doss was the starter there last year. Jefferson was making the switch from corner to safety, so he was going to be a first-time starter there. The two missed starts are from Montae Reagor, and those hardly hurt because of the Colts strong four-man rotation at defensive tackle.

The Patriots are starting their fifth strong safety, Michael Stone. This figure includes Tedy Bruschi, even though he didn't start the season as a starter. The list: Bruschi 6, Tyrone Poole 8, Rodney Harrison 6, Richard Seymour 4, Guss Scott 4, James Sanders 3.

---------------------

I expected a little more out of the Miami running game. Heath Evans (who was cut by Miami October 25th and subsequently picked up by the Patriots) outrushed Ronnie Brown and Ricky Williams combined.

---------------------

I think the Patriots won a road division game without their starting running back, tight end, left tackle, right tackle, strong safety, right corner and one starting receiver. That's pretty good, I would say. Real good.

Ole Mr. King nails it on the head this week.

- Cod

No, not Michael...

2005-11-10T15:30:00.000-05:00

While I would never make light of all the death and destruction that was recently unleashed by some cocksucker suicide bombers in Jordan, it does give me an excuse to link to a picture of Queen Rania.

I wouldn't kick her out of bed for eating crackers, if you know what I mean.

(stunning in black)

-----------------------

Surgery all around!

Let's see, first it was I.

Then the Cod Gal had disc-fusion surgery on her neck a few months ago.

Now, the Codfather.

The Codfather has been fighting a bad back since the blizzard of '78 caused the flood of '78 in my hometown of Hampton, NH.

While he was out being hero #1 (he was a police officer at the time) and rescuing dumb, old bastards that didn't evacuate like they should have, he got picked up by a wave and carried for three blocks where he was then unceremoniuosly dumped, back first.

All I remember, because I was not yet 4 years old, was a knock at the door and when the Codmother answered the door, I heard a loud "Oh my god!"

I immediately hoofed it around the corner to see what was up and there I saw my Dad sort of propped up in the doorway, soaked to the skin, and mumbling something about being hurt. There actually may have been some seaweed draped on him, but I'm sure that's my 4yr old imagination remembering that.

Anyways, the Codfather has always had a bad back. Now it looks like he will going under the knife (again). Hopefully, he has a better result than I had.

----------------------

Now, this takes all of the fun out of winter.... for obvious reasons.

There is no need to improve the bra, after the perfection that is the Wonderbra, was created.

- Cod

ps- There is always next year Pats fans

This man for President

2005-11-08T20:30:00.000-05:00

I'm starting a write-in campaign for this guy.

He solves the terrorism epidemic with one brilliant idea.

- Cod

ps- thanks to Mr. B for sending this one in

Cam-Fucking-Neely!!

2005-11-07T08:35:00.000-05:00

My favorite hockey player of all time, Cam Neely, will be inducted into the Hockey Hall of Fame tonight.

Cam was a man among men. He would pound the shit out of a couple goons on one shift, then go out and score the prettiest goal that you have ever seen on the next. To this day, I have still not seen another hockey player that has blended the two (toughness and finesse) with such command. Unfortunately, a cheap shot by that cowardly cocksucker Ulf Samuelson, ultimately ended his career.
In the 93-94 season, he became the third fastest player to score 50 goals. He scored his in only 44 games and Cam did it on one leg. He had been playing in every-other game because of a serious leg injury and did he complain? No! He sucked it up, and kicked some ass.

You know what? I'm going to stop. This man deserves his own column and I would do him a grave injustice but doing anything but and I haven't even gotten into his foundation for kids with cancer.

What he did was to buy a home in Boston so he could give the entire family a place to live while the children go through their treatments. That's how he started, it's evolved into much more than that. I urge you to check it out, if you can.

------------------------

I saw this on the news this morning and immediately thought of my Uncle Wheelgun. I guess that it's his lucky day.

(uh, I just re-read that... it's a bit disturbing that when lesbian cheerleaders are on the mind, my mind immediately goes to my twisted Uncle... maybe that therapy isn't such a bad idea afterall)

-------------------

You know, I've heard people say that they really want/need a drink, but this guy takes it to a completely different leve l. And then, after all of those miles traveled, he just gives up in front of a liquor store? You're on death row, junior. It's not like you're going to get back out of prison anytime soon in something other than a pine box. At least run down the street, or something. Give a fake name... anything.

It's obvious that he didn't break out of prison to go to a MENSA meeting. That's for sure.

------------------

Well, I hope that Peyton Manning enjoyed his time in the world of the unbeaten, because that is going to change around midnight EST. Hopefully, his buddy Kenny Chesney will be there to give him a hug afterwards because he's gonna need it.

Prediction...
Pats- 31
Mannings- 27

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Speaking of football, did you catch that 60 minutes interview with Tommy Cool last night? Is there anything that he can't do? He even interviews well. I also liked that demonstration on how he and Deion Branch can look at each other and know what play that Tommy Cool is going to run. I'm surprised that they even showed it. You know how paranoid that Belichick can be. You can read a full transcript, or watch it if you'd like, here.

That's it for today.

- Cod

ps- I will put money on the fact that Brady will hold some sort of public office within the next 20 years.

A close call.

2005-11-04T23:31:00.000-05:00

Let's all say a collective "Thanks" to everyone involved in the rescue of a friend of mine Thursday night. It sounds like everyone made it off ok, thanks to another stellar effort by our United States Coast Guard.

Unfortunately, it looks like he's going to lose his boat, but thank God (and that's saying a lot for me) that he came home to his wife and kids and I'm very happy for that.

Back to the Coasties for a minute...

These guys get overlooked all the time when people speak of the military, but they are as vital a cog in the defense of this country as any branch.

Yes, a few of them are "Ohio Hero's" and they do have their moments (like the time they had to throw me a line from 20 feet away and it took them 13 tries) , but those bastards sure can fly a chopper and they look awfully good doing it.

Trust me, I've seen it first hand.

- Cod

Glue isn't just for sniffing anymore!

2005-11-04T22:23:00.000-05:00

I've been freaked out about some things that have happened while relieving myself, but never for this reason.

--------------------

Now, that's not so bad. It's a prank, albeit a prank that shouldn't have gone as far as it did.

But this one.... this one is just plain wrong!

You just don't glue a man's hot rocks to anything, anywhere. She said that it was part of some sort of love game.

Yeah right!

Call me old fashioned but if the Cod Gal said, "Hey honey, I have an idea to spice up our love life. Let's whip out some SUPER GLUE!!" I'd decline.

Immediately!

Unfortunately, this isn't the first time that a woman has done something atrocious to some poor schmuck's love rocket. They seem to think that it's ok to do that. Um... nope.

I wonder how you women would like it if your significant other popped the tire on the wheelbarrow(s) that you use to lug your boobs around in. That wouldn't be too funny, now would it? You'd probably kill a small child when they came crashing down to earth.

On that note...

- Cod

Aren't sports wonderful?

2005-11-04T08:07:00.000-05:00

They offer grown men and women (and A-rod) opportunities when other avenues in life have been shut down. A way out of the gutter, so to speak.

Hell, if you are one of the lucky few that actually get paid to play a child's game for a living, you don't even have to learn how to read.

(Am I the only one that finds it absolutely hilarious that he "outs" his illiteracy in a book? How did he know that they were even writing that? For all he knows, it could have been a shopping list)

This reminds me of the sad tale that is Dexter Manley.

Man, what a player.

What a waste.

- Cod

ps- and that's saying something coming from me and all of my fulfulled potential

I wonder if he had to tag it

2005-11-03T09:36:00.001-05:00

I'm going to try and start to post something, at least a link, everyday. Most likely it will be something that I find either amusing and/or disgusting. So, prepare yourself for anything.

If you have any suggestions, email them along to me at thecodgod@comcast.net.

Here is #1....

-----------------------------

This is the way that REAL men do it.

So, obviously I don't subscribe to such a method.

- Cod

Secretion of the mind

2005-10-31T17:08:00.000-05:00

Well, I'm back from my monthly blood-washing (thanks for the tip, Keith!) to end the longest drought of my illustrious career as the preemminent blogger of our time. It probably won't be any good, but I don't care. It must be all the drugs that they keep giving me. Just call me Brian Wilson.

I see that some of my beloved Red Sox added a few trinkets to their trophy cases in the last few days. Manny, Papi, and Big V all won Silver Slugger awards two days ago. For Manny, this is his seventh in a row and 8th(!) overall. It was Varitek's first (should have had one the last couple of years) and Papi's 2nd.

I'm waiting for them to legalize the stomping Hippies.

This is second award of the offseason for Papi with him having won the Hank Aaron award last week. That is awarded to the best overall hitter from each league every year. Hell, Papi will probably need a wheelbarrow to haul away all of his the awards after all of this is said and done. Hopefully, the trophy on top of the pile will be the MVP, but we'll see. I just can't see how Mr. 3-run-homer-when-my-team-is-up-by-5-in-the-8th-inning Rodriguez.

**UPDATE**
Big V just won his first Gold Glove award for his stellar defense behind the plate. It's about friggin' time, dammit. Ok, I'm off to give him a full-body massage.

Well, the battle continues on this destroyed back of mine. I had my 7th(!) injection this morning and it didn't go very well. At one point I could actually feel the needle scraping along my spine. It makes this weird scraping noise that echo's up an down your body. The problem this morning was that I have so much scar tissue built up around the nerve that the medicine that the injection can't properly disperse to reduce the swelling. I think it's all a big waste of time and I'm sure that I'll have to have more surgery, but we'll see... I guess.

Frikafraka firecracker siss boom bah... bugs bunny bugs bunny, rah rah rah.

If they ever legalized hunting seagulls, I would buy a case of shotgun shells, a few hundred pounds of herring and go to town. I hate them more than squirrels... and we all know how I feel about those fucking tree-rats. (Where's my pellet gun, dammit!?)

Well, on that note...

Just another drunk

2005-10-16T12:05:00.000-04:00

Having worked on the Party Boats for a number of seasons, I've had to deal with many a drunk over the years. Some result in a donnybrook (I've always wanted to use that word somehow) while others just end up being chalked up as another day at the office.

One guy that was memorable, at least to me, happened one warm Sunday afternoon.

Usually once you got through the Friday and Saturday trips, you could usually count on Sunday being fairly easy. You'd still get your share of drunks, but they were usually in recovery mode at that point and they ended up being harmless.

So, I was caught a bit off guard by this one particular dickhead.

We had gotten through the morning trip (8am-noon) with nary a problem, much to my delight. (On a quick aside, where else can one use the word "delight" without sounding like a pretentious douchebag? Hmmm? I don't know... maybe it's just me. Back to the story...)

While we did have a lot of people, no one gave us any problems. (their lucky, too... I would have slapped them naked and hidden their clothes if they did! that's right... I'm a badass... at least that's what my Mom says) It was while I was handing out the rental-rods for the afternoon trip that I had my first interaction with Mr. Personality.

He waited in line for his fishing rod patiently and when it was his turn he handed me his rental-rod ticket, grabbed the rod, told me to go fuck myself (something that isn't possible, by the way... I mean... um, so they tell me) and walked away.

I was kind of surprised by the whole thing, actually. You usually get the "is that a lucky one?", "how's the fishing been?" and "damn, you're sooo good looking" comments. Not a "go fuck yourself". Well, I didn't usually get them at that point in the trip. We hadn't even left the dock yet.

Surprisingly, my captain happened to be standing right behind me when it happened. He must have needed something really bad to have come out of the wheelhouse. You usually didn't see him at all... the lazy bastard.

Anyways, all he did was shake his head and say "Uh, keep an eye on him.. I guess."

Yeah, great leadership there. Let the 16yr old kid take care of the big drunk guy. That always works out well.

It was right around that time that he came back in and demanded a better rod. I explained to him that there was nothing wrong with his rod, that it would work just fine and all of the rental rods are exactly the same anyways.

He didn't agree. I believe that his exact words were...

Him- What the fuck does a fuckin' punk like you know? I've been fucking fishing longer than you've been fucking alive!

Me- (trying to keep from telling him to go fuck himself... I did work on tips, you know) There's no need to talk to me that way. If you'd like a new rod, we can get you one.

Him- Yeah, you'd better. (under his breath) Fuckin' punk.

Me- What's that?

Him- Fuck you.

Me- Fuck me?

Him- Yeah, fuck you.

Me- Have you been drinking today?

Him- Fuck you.

Me- Yeah, ok.

Him- Fuckin' punk homo.

Me- Yeah. That's me.

Him- You probably are. I know how you fishin' guys are.

Me- Didn't you just say that you've been fishing longer than I've been alive?

Him- Just gimme a new fuckin' rod. I want a new rod.

Me- There is nothing wrong with that rod, but you are more than welcome to look in the rod locker for one that you like if that is what you want.

Him- Yeah, right. You'll probably grab my ass or something.

Me- Listen buddy, if I were gay I would like to think that I could do a hell of a lot better than you.

Him- "........" (walks off)

This was proving to be fun. I had a drunken, belligerent asshole onboard to deal with plus that customer (insert rim shot here). Just what I wanted to deal with after a long weekend.

I headed up to the wheelhouse to talk it over with Captain Courageous. He (uncharacteristically) said just to keep an eye on him and don't serve him any alcohol against my recommendation. I wanted to deep-six his ass right back onto the dock, but I guess that ole skippy boy needed the money too much. He normally didn't let the drunks onboard at all. I've seen him reject whole boatloads of people costing him thousands of dollars at a time.

I didn't see Captain Fuck-Fuck (the drunk guy... I use that name because of his colorful use of the English language) for the rest of time that we were at the dock. I did take note as to where he had set up shop out on deck. He had conveniently (for me) chosen a spot directly under the portside wheelhouse window. It was the perfect spot for me to keep an eye on him while on the ride out to whatever hotspot that we were going to that day.

There wasn't much activity from Mr. Wonderful one the ride out. Although, he did tell me to fuck off (again) when I asked him if he would like to get into the pool.

(The pool is when everyone, who would like to enter, pays in a certain amount of money ($2-10) and then whoever catches the biggest fish, wins it all. We've actually had some several hundred dollar pools before. Unfortunately, I couldn't enter unless all the customers agreed and that only happened when a bunch of our regular customers would go out together for the last trip of the year. That was always fun.)

Instead of getting mad, I just winked at him and walked away. It was the first time that I had seem him speechless up to that point.

A little later on while I was scooping on the galley girl I noticed that he had stumbled into the cabin and was heading towards the head (bathroom). I kept one eye on him and one eye on the galley girls rack to see what he was up to. A lot of times you would catch people taking out their weed or bottles of booze before they got into the bathroom where the hoped to consume it without anyone watching. People are so stupid.

(My favorite was one time while I was filleting fish on the ride home and someone was smoking pot inside the bathroom. While that wasn't all that uncommon, most people don't do it when they have to ask me to move because I am standing next to the door and then proceed to light up while I am all of two feet away. This guy was a little more creative than others, though. He had brought in a bottle of air-freshener and would spray it as he was smoking. I would smell "Lemon Rain" then pot.... "Lemon Rain" then pot. After he came out of the head, I followed him over to his tackle box where he was putting the air freshener away. I said "How's that air-freshener work for bait?" He paused...thought for a moment and then started to say something but I cut him off. I just told him that "Lemon Rain" and weed is not a smell that we normally have on the boat. It tends to stick out and get the attention of the crew. He got the idea)

Anyways, he didn't fumble around with anything but the latch. After he walked out, I went in after him to see if I could smell or see anything and lo and behold, there were three empty nips of brandy.

Of course, he denied that they were his and told me to fuck off some more after I confronted him about it. I wouldn't have expected anything less, but he was starting to get on my nerves and there was nothing that I could do about it.

But Mother Nature could.

A few days earlier there had been a massive storm that had formed off the Carolina's and was supposed to nail us but thankfully, it had missed us by heading out to sea. Large storms at sea tend to send a large ground swell in all directions that can be felt hundreds of miles away. You can have a day where there isn't a breath of wind, but you would have 10 foot seas. It's actually a pain in the ass when you are trying to haul nets and stuff, but that doesn't apply here.

What does apply is that we were steaming into a large groundswell and it wasn't agreeing with Captain Fuck-Fuck. It was a southeast-based swell, so it was hitting us right on the starboard bow the whole ride out. Not only would the boat would slowly go way up and then way down, but it would go side-to-side as well. In my experience, that was the best combination for making googans (tourists) sick.

Our hero was starting to look a little green when we got to the first spot. After dropping the anchor, I headed towards him with the full intention of screwing with him a bit but he stopped me dead in my tracks when I saw him start to twitch.

I knew what was coming and I couldn't wait!

He got up, leaned on the railing for a moment and then hung his head towards the ocean...

This is it!, I thought.

For a minute there, I thought that he was going to make it and so did he. But then, Mother Nature let me know that she had my back by sending in a couple of sets of waves that were particularly devoid of any backside. There wasn't any of that slow up-and-down bullshit. These went slowly up, then quickly down.

And that was all he needed.

Let's just say that by the time he was through puking, I thought that we may have had a new long distance record set. I'm telling you, if it didn't go 6 feet, it didn't go an inch. Not only that, I think I saw one of his shoes come out of his mouth at one point. It really was quite spectacular.

Captain Fuck-Fuck was now Captain Puke-Puke and I was enjoying every minute of it.

Of course, I didn't miss a single opportunity to ask him if I could get him anything. I would ask him nicely if he would like a greasy pork sandwich served in a dirty ash tray or maybe a raw egg egg served in a backed-up toilet complete with all the fixin's. Hey, it's all about the service, right?

Between bouts of heaving ole Puke-Puke just kinda flopped around on the deck like a flounder. He would slither between sitting up to completely sprawled out on the deck where I would "accidentally" spray the hose or tip over the bait bucket with the nasty old clams in it (my favorite).

I didn't hear much from him the rest of the trip.

Surprisingly, he didn't even look at me as he was leaving when I told him "Have a nice day, you big stud" when he left.

- Cod

ps- And to think, he didn't even give me a tip.

2005-10-12T10:32:00.000-04:00

I'm still alive.

Hopefully, I'll have the opportunity to post something later.

These are my people

2005-09-28T20:07:00.000-04:00

*This will replace the former entries that were listed under the title "whaa?". It will be a collection of various web searches that led someone (or something in a few cases) to my blog.

----------------------

Well, since my last entry I've had a few more of you stumble onto my little blog here from various corners of the internet. How the hell the search engines made the connection to my blog in several instances, I'll never know.

First up... the sports related ones.

We twice had a PeytonManningsucks.com search that led to me. I'm especially proud of that one. Until he beats my beloved Patriots, he blows. Get over it, hayseeds. Tom Brady is the better quarterback and if I had a thing, just one little bitty thing, to do with convincing just one person that Peyton Manning does suck (.com), then this has all been worth it. (sniff)

Another in the sports related area was a search for Charlie Brown football stats. While I'm not positive that anyone did keep such stats, I think it would be safe to say that they sucked. I don't know about you, but I would have punted that douchebag Lucy instead. What a pushover. You know, he always reminded me a little bit of Wheel Gun, for some reason.

To wrap up the sports related searches, we have the 1985 Superbowl (HELL-no comment) and TomBradySucks.com. The latter being a totally unprovoked attack on Tom's character (a must read) by some delusional Peyton Manning lackey.

Now, onto the better ones...

Now, this next one we can attribute to one Captain Leech. You may only know him as the dude who likes unconventional sex with many gravity-challenged woman, but I know him as the only man that could get a band banned for life from The Rat in Boston, Mass... or so the story goes. Anyways, he snared me a match by offering me some friendly advice. He offered up that I should change my name to "The Cock-Sucking God Swallowith." As tempting as the name change was, I chose to keep my original name. It would break the Codmother's heart.

The actual search was for "cock suckin' boys". Obviously, a derelict of Bface-like proportions is among us. Certainly not the type of person that I cater to with my wholesome, family oriented programming. (dodging the lightning bolt)

Ahh, this next one is my favorite search of the week... "Older ladies showing their grey(sic) pussies blogs".

Wow.

So many ways to jump into this one, I don't know where to start.

Well, let's start with WHY IN THE HELL WOULD YOU WANT TO SEE THAT?!?!? Not only that, but why would there be a blog about it? Wouldn't it be easier to just search around on some porn pages? Also, why would you click on my blog to find that anyways? I mean, didn't you see my name attached to it? I understand that while I am a big pussy, I'm not gray... yet. And, I haven't written about it, so there. I wish I still had the link to what entry matched the criteria.

Man, I've heard of fetishes, but... yeesh!

Also in the world of adult-oriented searches we have the ever-present search for "facts on vaginas". While I'd like to think that I know a thing or two about the opposite sex and their plumbing (the Cod Gal is heard snickering in the background), I'm no expert and I generally don't claim to be... either by typed or spoken word. So, that's all I have to say about that.

If anything, that search gives me a chance to link to an old entry that I happen to like a bit more than the others. Here it is in all it's glory...(sounds familiar) Women Facts.

Another one of the fetish-type ones was a search for "ugliest black asses"....um, Next!

We had yet another search for "Cop Cock" that linked to my "Smokey and The Cock" entry. That makes it around 10 times, now. Maybe it's something about the uniform... I don't know. I'll have to ask The Codfather about it.

I just realized that most of these searches are either for things of a sports-related nature or something about getting laid in less than traditional ways. That either says something about me, or people that cruise the web. Probably a little of both.

Oh yeah, here is another good one... "The Maury Povich midget". First off, I didn't even know that he had a midget now. Second, how the hell did it come to me? I must have mentioned them both in one entry or another, but I can't seem to find out which one it was. I need to start saving the links when I get them. And to think, Maury was once a well respected journalist on CNN. How the mighty have fallen.

Anyways, a few more searches that linked to me were "Pam Smart", for obvious reasons. A "double kickstand" for my story about Derek and his out of control moped (scroll down when you get there).

A few other searches were for a boat called "The Codfather". Then there was "a dude jumping out of a window during 9/11" which was odd. It goes to show you how well the search engines key in on certain words because I sure as shit haven't ever written about that day. I was stuck in the middle of the ocean not knowing what exactly to do. It kinda sucked not knowing what exactly was going on, but that's another story for another time.

I'll leave you with this last search that landed some poor, unsuspecting soul on my twisted blog. "What does Yamada mean?"

- Cod

Woe is me

2005-09-26T20:37:00.000-04:00

Rodney Harrison is out for the season.

I knew that was coming after watching his knee get twisted 12 different directions yesterday, but it's still jarring to see in print. It must be the finality of it.

No Bruschi. No Harrison. No Charlie Weis. No Romeo Crennel. It also looks like we'll be without Matt Light, our starting left tackle, for the season as well. That's not to mention the 4 cornerbacks that are hurt as well.

If Master Belichick is ever going to earn his money, it will be this year. It's a good thing that he dumped the ole ball and chain this winter.

Oh yeah, and from here on out Tom Brady will be referred to as "Tommy Cool". A name that I've been using for some time now, but not in print for obvious (Bface-related man-crush jokes) reasons.

Also, Adam Vinatieri will be known as "The Closer". 18 game winning field goals will do that for you. Fuck the two Super Bowl-winning-kicks... that 45 yarder against the Raiders in the snow to send it into OT is still the GREATEST KICK EVER!!

There is no debate.

- Cod

ps- maybe Big Bill's buddy Jon Bon Jovi can write him a nice song to keep his spirits up

What to write...

2005-09-26T09:22:00.000-04:00

Having just popped in one of my reclaimed Cramps cd's (Fiend of Dope Island) from Bface and gazing upwardly at my kickass framed "The Cramps and The Lords of Altamount at the Filmore" concert poster (also courtesy Bface, but that wasn't mine to begin with like my cd), I decided to write something.

I don't what the hell it will be, but it will surely involve something stupid that I've done to myself... or someone else for that matter.

Yeah, that's it. I could write about how I must have somehow screwed up someone's life along the way. Although, in all fairness I didn't have much time to have done something like that.

Afterall, I've been with the Cod Gal since the tender age of 17 (?). It's hard to ...... AHH!! My Cramps cd just skipped, then stopped. What the fuck. (raising clenched fist to the air) Bface!!!

*We are experiencing some technical difficulties. We'll be back as soon as we can.*

Ok, I'm back.

I'm sure that Bface will be relieved to know that he didn't screw the cd up too bad. I'll let him off the hook this time. Although, interrupting "Dr. Fucker, MD" is grounds enough for an ass-whuppin'. I'll let it slide this time. No sense in going and getting myself all beat into a bloody pulp, right? (<------ gracious nod to my eldery brother)

Anyways, I haven't screwed up anyone's life, that I know of... well not permanently. It may have seemed that I did something horrible at the time, but I'm sure that I meant well and someday we can all look back, laugh about it and have a beer. Though, now is probably not a good time , but someday I'm sure.

Well, that was a waste of time. Maybe I can write about all of the good things that I have done for everyone that I know. That should be an easy one to write about. Afterall, it's not like I go around kicking kittens and slapping babies.... right? Well.... (any actions before I stopped boozin' may be up for interpretation)

Ok, let's write about that.

Let me think of something and I'll get right to writing....

"................"

"..............."

Hey! "Elvis-fucking-Christ" just came on. That is, quite possibly, the greatest song of all time. (like how I contradicted myself? I should be a politician, dammit) Just thought that I'd let you know.

Ok, back to the writing.

"..............."

Well, screw that idea. I can't think of an instance and I don't have all day, you know. It takes time to keep that couch warm, yo.

I could write about how my Patriots showed that they are still the big dogs in the NFL by slapping around the Steelers in that little playpen that they call a stadium. I could continue on about how Brady, Vinatieri and Belichick should have their own wing in the Pro Football Hall of Fame... but I won't.

I also won't get into how during this upcoming weekend the last 3 games of the baseball season will be played between the tied-for-first-place Red Sox and Yankees and how it will probably kill me. That's better suited for my Red Sox blog that I also don't write for.

I don't know.

Emmy-Cod is rumbling down the stairs now, so I have to go.

If I think of anything to write about, I'll get right on it.

Soon...

2005-09-24T00:14:00.000-04:00

I'll have something up by tomorrow... I hope.

I've haven't been writing because I've been busy as hell doing various things this last week, or so.

This is the busy time of year for us monkey spankers, you know.

- Cod

Yeesh!

2005-09-15T22:29:00.000-04:00

I was just stunned, STUNNED to find out what someone had searched for that led them to me. Actually, I'm not stunned that someone searched for it. I'm stunned that this blog popped up.

It didn't just pop up, I was at #4!!

I'll fill you in as to what the search was on my next installment of the "Whaa?" columns.

- Cod

ps- CptLeech strikes again!

We're not supposed to walk upright, part 3

2005-09-14T09:35:00.000-04:00

If you didn't read the first two sections of this, you can catch up by clicking on the links below.

part 1
part 2

Now where did we leave off? Oh yeah, I had just received my surgery date.....

----------------

Oh joy!

Surgery two days before my favorite holiday of the year, turkey day 2002.

I love turkey day because you get to see the family, eat great food and you don't have to buy any crappy presents for anyone. It's the perfect holiday, with the exception of the 4th of July. That has booze and explosions prominently involved. Nothing can compare to that.

Anyways, I just sat back and suffered quietly (the Cod Gal would argue with the "quietly" part) while waiting for my surgery date to come. Up until that point I had been getting through the days ok with a steady dose of percosets. It didn't kill the pain completely, but it made it so I could at least move around a little bit.

Then one morning about one week before my surgery, I woke up and the pain had become excrutiating literally overnight. I hadn't done anything the day before to aggravate the injury, so I was a bit concerned because I now couldn't even sit still. Not for more than about 30 seconds or so. I was flopping around like an epileptic mackerel going through withdrawls.

After my wife got ahold of the doctor for me, he told me to double my dose of percosets. After trying that for a day, we came to the conclusion that it wasn't doing anything more than making me feel like I was going to puke half the time. They were probably working a little bit, but I couldn't tell. I was in friggin' agony.

After talking to the doctor yet again, he said that there was nothing more that he could do for me outside of the hospital. He wanted me to check in to the hospital right away and he would be waiting for me when I got there. Doctor Feelgood was planning on loading me up full of morphine until the we had the pain under control.

While being loaded up on morphine for a week sounded like fun, I didn't want to spend any more time in that hospital than I had to.

The reason being that I have spent about 40 days of my life in our local hospital(s) for a variety of illnesses/injuries (one of which you can read about on this little section of cyberspace that I have stolen, here is part 1 /part 2 /part 3/ and part 4) and I have come to the conclusion that I would rather be at home doing nothing than sitting in a hospital bed doing nothing. Although, the bedside service at the hospital is always a plus.

So instead of heading for the hospital, I decided to tough it out in a percoset induced haze and wait for The Day. (insert dramatic music here)

--------------------

Alas, THE DAY finally came.

Luckily, I was scheduled as the first surgery of the day so I had to be there early. The few times that I have had surgery in the past, I have always preferred to be first, or as close to first as possible. It would drive me nuts to sit around all day waiting, and starving. The Cod Gal had some neck surgery a couple of months ago (trust me, it was from atrophy, (sigh) not from overuse) and she was scheduled for later in the day. It was around 11am, I believe and she didn't end up going under the knife until 3pm and coming out of it until 6pm. That's too late for me. I like to get it over with as soon as possible.

After getting changed into that horrible hospital gown, I had to lay around for what seemed like an hour (probably more like 20 minutes) with my nerves going batshit. Was it going to go ok? Was he going to screw up and paralyze me?... (which is always a possibility when doing back surgery) When the hell are they going to do this? Where is the nurse with my "magic shot"?

Finally, my doctor came in, we went over some last minute details and then off I went to the room of horrors.

When I got into the operating room the first thing that I was struck by was how big it was. This place was huge! Definitely bigger than my first apartment.

The 2nd thing that struck me was "what the hell is that contraption on the operating table"? They had some sort of metal whirlygig that looked like something a mistress would strap her sex slave into for some good, clean bondage fun.

I also wondered how the hell that I was going to get into that contraption of death. The nurse that I was chatting with while the other nurses set up told me that they were going to strap me into it after I was under the influence of the general anestethic.

Now, I am not a petite man. So, being the great guy that I am, I offered to climb up there for them (all the while secretly hoping that they would say no). Thankfully, they assured me that it would be no problem to do toss me up there without my help.

Phew! If I had seen myself in that thing with my bare ass hanging out and sticking up for all to see, I would have had to kick my own ass. (yeah yeah, I know Wheel Gun, I always have my ass sticking up or something like that... har har)

So, I was lying there talking to the nurse for a few minutes when the next thing that I knew...BAM! I was in the recovery room. Not only was I in there, but I was gagging and dryheaving left and right. It was not exactly the best way to wake up.

Apparently, the retching had something to do with a reaction to the general anestethic. I vaguely remember doing that once before when I came out of it, but I thought that was an isolated incident.

It was no big deal, I guess. After a couple of shots of compazine, I was ok and headed up to my room for the night.

------------------

The one thing that the doctors didn't prepare me for was the lack of muscle strength that I would have immediately following surgery. I guess I should have thought of that myself seeing as how they had to cut through my back muscles and all, but still... damn. I literally couldn't even roll over. It took every last bit of strength that I had just to do it so the doctor could change my bandage. The only way to do it was to grab onto the bed rail and pull like hell and hope for the best.

Surprisingly, the nurses had me up and walking, albeit quite gingerly, by later that evening. I couldn't believe it, but there I was shuffling over to the bathroom. (And thank god for that! I wasn't up for calling someone to help me out in there. No one should be subject to the horror that is my junk)

The best part of that first day was that I could already feel the difference in pain levels from before the surgery and after. It was quite amazing, actually.

I thought that everything was fine and dandy until I talked to the doc. He said the bad news was that my disc had broken into 7 segments and one of them had actually wedged up against my nerve, thus causing the massive increase in pain that I had talked about earlier in this post. Unfortunately, he said that it looked like it had injured the nerve, but only time would tell that.

The good news was that I was going to be able to leave the next morning after he came back in to check on me and made sure that I didn't have my spine sticking out of my ass, or anything fun like that.

True to form, he sauntered into my room around 8am, changed my bandage again and gave me the go-ahead to get the hell out of Dodge... but with some serious restrictions. No walking up stairs for at least two weeks, no driving for 4 weeks, no water around the incision for 4-5 days, and a few others as well. Basically, I had to take it as easy as possible. That was it.

[That shouldn't prove to be too hard, right? It's not like I have any stairs in my house... oh wait, all the bedrooms and the bathroom with the shower is upstairs. Ok, I can deal with that... I guess. Next, no driving for a month...that'll be a tough one. Has anyone seen the Cod Gal drive? I'm better off risking any damge to my back that I would incur by driving. It beats the injury that I would inevitably get when we get in a car crash with her at the wheel. (just kidding babe, you're the best!)]

I then eagerly phoned the Cod Gal to tell her that I would need a good wheel man for my daring escape from the hospital and that she should get in the Codmobile and get her ass over there pronto! She quickly informed me that she was getting the (friggin') kids off to school and that I should "shut up" and she'll "get there when I'm goddamn good and ready!"

Ok babe, take your time.

She rolled in a little while later and off to the car I went. This was one time that I didn't complain about having to be pushed in a wheelchair to the Codmobile.

Off to the Cod mansion!

to be continued....

Whaaa? part 2

2005-09-12T20:10:00.000-04:00

A few days ago after compiling a few of the more odd searches that led some of you wackos my way, I figured that I was in the clear for a while before I would have to do it again.

Nope.

So, without further ado, here you go... you pervs.

---------------------

Our first search was a bit different. It was "Jason Varitek + hookers".

Now, each one by itself I can see. But combining the two together makes you think. Was it just some wacko that fantasises about the two of them together? Or maybe it was an angry Mrs. Varitek looking for anything to get him on. And if that is the case... Jason, I'm all yours. Call me. 1-800-Tek-Love

Our next category is a from the few "innocent and obvious why it matched" category. One is for the "cod world record" and another is for "blue hake pictures". I don't have the first, but the second one is kicking around here somewhere and it's a nice picture, as far as hake pictures go. They are ugly, slimy fish. (Soooo many jokes can go right here)

Although, one kinda weird search was "rare fish heads". Now, what in the hell would you want to do once you found some? Do you mount them over the fireplace like a deer? I don't know, maybe Barnes and Barnes are making a comeback. Maybe it's for a rare soup? If you still out there rare fish head searcher guy, let me know.

Next up is the strange/perverted category, or more commonly known as "my people".

First was a search for "Cop Cock". Now, I don't know if I am more weirded out that someone searched for that or that the search linked to me. Either way, no thank you. But, I could hook you up with the Codfather. He put in his years as a cop and I'm assuming that he is swinging a schlong. He may not have seen it for a while but if he has, I guess that it would fall in the category of "retired cop cock". Not that it matters, right Wheel Gun?

Anyways, our next contestant for "weird search of the week" was "football players + enemas. Hmmm, not sure what to make of that one. Is it someone looking to give one to a football player? Maybe it's the new thing to do. All the cool kids are doing it, don't you know. I know that I am. Been doing it for years and I love it! Wait, was that my outside voice again? I hope that no one heard me. Back to the story...

This next one will make Wheel Gun proud. The search was for "pimping ain't easy". Fucking-A right it isn't! I gots to keep my ho's in check, yo. Listen G, you cain't let da bitches be all up in your grill, homey. You gots to slap dem hoes back in check once in a while, B. Word. (you taught me well, Bob)

Now, our award winner for strangest search goes to the magnificent bastard that searched for "smokey cock -robinson -wilson -bandit". I don't even know where to start on that one. Maybe it's a new BBQ sauce. They do have some strange names nowadays. Any ideas, anyone?

Well, those are my people. My twisted, twisted people.

I feel like a new father every time that I see another bizarre search taht leads to me. Thanks Yahoo!

- Cod

We're not supposed to walk upright, part 2

2005-09-03T18:03:00.000-04:00

Let's see...

Oh yeah, we had left off with the spine doctor having just informed me of the injury that would change my life forever, a ruptured disc. It may sound a bit over dramatic to say that it changed my life, but it has... as you'll see.

Anyways, after he told me what was wrong, I asked what would happen next. He said that surgery would be inevitable, but we could try some epidural injections first if I liked. He said that at worse, it wouldn't aggravate my condition any and at best, it would reduce the swelling around the nerve and offer me some relief. Most importantly, it would buy me some time.

The reason that time was so important is because we had just begun our extremely busy part of the fishing season. Actually, it really couldn't have happened at a worse time. I normally made about half of my money for the year over the next 3 months. For a person who at that time was acting as the sole provider for 5 people, this wasn't a good thing. (Why couldn't it have happened in January? The story of my life...)

So, I decided to try the injections. They come in a series of three and mine were scheduled at two week intervals. Luckily, my Captain was sympathetic enough to my situation (at the time, the bastard) to schedule our trips so I wouldn't miss any time.

The injections themselves are really no big deal. I was more fascinated, than uncomfortable... well, most of the time. First, they shoot up your back full of lidocaine, then they use a different kind of x-ray machine named "fluoroscopy" to help the needle find its mark. It is constantly updating itself on a computer monitor and the Dr. uses it to guide the needle right next to the nerve with great precision. It's pretty cool to watch the needle on the screen as it moves further into your back.

Anyways, that part isn't bad, but when he hit that plunger on the hyperdermic needle and I received my first injection, it hurt so friggin' bad that I immediately thought that they had screwed up somehow. What had happened was that since I was extremely swollen around the disc, the steroid solution had no place to go. What it did was compress the nerve worse than anything you could imagine. It actually felt like my left buttock (where the pain was located... insert joke here) was going to explode. Not only that, but teh pain went from there all the way down through my foot. Not good times. Not good times, at all.

The whole process takes about 15 minutes and after waiting around for another 20 minutes or so to make sure that they didn't paralyze you by accident, you're on your way. The rest of the day really blows monkeys because you're sore as hell from all the fluid near the injury and that takes time to subside. By the next day, it's back to just normal pain. Well, it was for me anyways.

A couple of weeks later, having received a few days of relief, we decided to try a second injection. Unfortunately, the second one offered zero relief and actually dislodged a piece of the disc so that it could now float around and cause me great pleasure... not.

Apparently, the disc actually broke into several pieces when I injured it. After the surgery, I found out that it was in at least 3 pieces, or 7. I can't remember, I was on morphine but I do know that it was a prime number. Chalk one up for the Hampton Schools!

Yeah, fuck them. I had to have learned it somewhere else. Probably from Bface through punch-mosis. He'd teach as he beat me. "Now Cod, I'm only going to punch you 7 times right now. Is that a prime number? What? Ow, please stop is not a number!! Again!!" And they say that older brothers suck.

I digress...

Well, the 2nd shot didn't work at all so the doc decided to send me to a surgeon to discuss my options. Options? What options? I have an Owee in my back and I need it fixed.

This all happened in June of 2002, smack dab in the money season.

I made the appointment with the neurosurgeon and waited. You know how it is with any specialist, if you are a new patient, you are scheduling at least a month out. Thankfully, the spine doctor had me on some pain medication, or I wouldn't have even been able to walk.

Looking back, how I ever continued to work through it is beyond me. I remember when it really acted up, I couldn't walk normally. I would walk with my left leg kind of swinging out and forwards, instead of just moving it straight forwards. Not only that, but I couldn't walk completely upright. It was the first time that I had an injury that actually affected my motor skills, so it was a bit disconcerting.

Anyways, I saw the surgeon and he scheduled me for surgery right away. Unfortunately, due to some other considerations that I won't go into here, I had to reschedule a couple of times but we did eventually settle on a date.

2 days before Thanksgiving, 2002.

to be continued....

Whaaa?

2005-09-03T00:08:00.000-04:00

I have a website that tracks all the hits that I get on my blogs. It has a feature called "came from" that (surprise) tells me where all of you twisted fucks come from.

Here are a couple of "matches" as certain websites see it....

Someone searched Alta-Vista for the term "get cock in jail"... a lonely inmate with computer priviledges, perhaps? Anyways, it hit on my Smokey and the Cock entry. Enjoy boys.

Yahoo had some weirdo search for "Trot Fucking" which is weird enough in itself. I assumed that they forgot to add a word or two, but they hung around long enough to find my blog (as the number 5 match, no less!!) and click on the link to an old entry on my Sox blog. Odd, to say the least. Then again, those are my people.

Another search that Yahoo linked to me was "how to back a boat down a ramp". I was the third match on that one! It linked to one of my favorite entries, Outdoors with the Codfather.

Yahoo once again strikes with "scorpion bowl recipe" linking to my What a Drunk entry. That entry is probably the worse thing that I have ever done according to me. I didn't want to write and didn't have a subject so I forced it. The result is pure garbage. If you feel like a pity-laugh, go ahead and read it. Then again, you must feel like a pity-laugh if you're here in the first place.

I've had other like "fucking sister in-law".... "women's shoe size"... and "fat bitch" connect to me. I wish I had saved them all. It would have made for a better story. If any of you have found me via searching for something else, let me know or I shall hunt you down like the dog(s) you are!

Oh well, fuck it.

We're not supposed to walk upright, part 1

2005-08-31T22:37:00.000-04:00

As you may have gathered from the occassional comment thrown in, I have a screwed up back. Not your "ooh, ow, I need some Doan's and a heating pad" bad. A "fuck, I've already had surgery and things are going to hurt the rest of my life" bad.

I have had many minor back injuries over the years. I've had your garden variety muscle pulls, wrenchings, and tweaks with the worse having been a severely pinched nerve that occurred while fishing one day about 8 years ago.

That one had me literally unable to get up off the floor for more than just a moment. I had hurt it sometime during a day that ended up being the best day that I had ever witnessed while fishing (16,000 lbs for one day) up to that point. I didn't feel any initial pain at first. It was once I went home, showered and relaxed for the afternoon that it started to act up.

It quickly progressed from a nagging ache to a "holy shit, something is really wrong."

Unfortunately, we were supposed to do a turn-around trip and head right back out that night to try and get a few more of the fish that we had just left the day before. Being the total badass motherfucker that I am (ok, I cry and write poetry...but its poetry about guns, dammit!) , I tried to tough it out. But when the captain showed up and saw me curled up in the fetal position on the wheelhouse floor unable to get up to untie the boat, he wisely advised me to go to the hospital.

After my "buddy" (I use that term loosely) Billy half carried me into the emergency room, I happily walked back out a couple of hours later with a diagnosis of a pinched nerve and a fist full of prescriptions. I ended up missing the next trip, but I didn't care thanks to the percoset and flexeril. Boy, that was a good combination.... for pain relief. Of course.

Anyways, I thought that was some serious back pain. Little did I know how good I had it then.

----------------------

3 years ago this past May, we had to take a month off because of various regulations ( yeah, thanks hippies).

Now, I was the sole provider of 5 people, so I couldn't afford to take a month off (but I'm sure that those Volvo driving "conservationalists" had plenty of money, the bastards).

Seeing as how nobody was going fishing, my options were severely limited. So, after I had talked it over with my boss, I decided to "strip" some nets for some extra money that month.

"Stripping nets" is basically taking the nets that are torn up, stripping off the remaining twine, retying some knots, and just basically getting them ready to be "re-hung."

I think that it was while I was trying to get some of these nets off the boat for stripping that I injured my back.

Two things contributed to my injury. One was that our boat was tied up as the third boat out away from the pier and the second was that it was low tide. And we don't have any of those wussy tides like most of you do. Ours is always between 12 and 15 feet.

Anways, I had to somehow get those 20 nets that needed stripping from the back deck of the boat into my truck.

The path consisted of heaving the nets onto the overhead (7 feet), then carrying and tossing them over two different boats while trying not to fall in between them and dying (about 30 feet while trying not to trip), then chucking them up onto the pier (over 5 feet and up 5 feet) and finally loading them into the back of my truck. Total distance = too friggin' far.

With each net weighing between 75 and 100 lbs, it kinda sucked.

It was while tossing one of the last nets the last part of the way onto the pier, that I missed and it dropped into the water.

I was now officially fucked.

Quickly scrambling to grab the net fromwashing away downriver, I realized a few things.... I now had a net that weighed at least 100 pounds, inside a bag that was now full of water, in a river that was about 15 feet below the pier. Good times.

After some considerable grunting and groaning and dropping it back into the river once, I hauled it up onto the pier. I saved the $300 net, but I think at one point a vertebrae flew out of my mouth.

I had to lay perfectly still on the pier for about 10 minutes before I could stand upright. That was my first clue that things weren't well. (there's that keen grasp of the obvious kicking in again)

To make a long story somewhat shorter, every day that passed, the pain just grew worse and worse.

My first trip to my regular doctor resulted in a "just a pulled muscle" diagnosis. I told them that it wasn't a muscle pull, that it was definitely something worse. She responded with "take some Advil and you'll be fine."

I limped out of there knowing that she was wrong. But hey, they're the smart doctors. What do I know?

A couple of weeks later, I couldn't take it anymore and went to the doctor(s) that had performed my carpal tunnel surgery on both wrists a year earlier. He immediately knew that something was wrong and referred me to a spine specialist in the area who also happened to have been my anesthestiologist for my wrist surgery. It was 6 degrees of The Cod God.

Anyways, I got in to see him pretty quick and he immediately sent me for an MRI....

Now, I am not a petite man but I am also not a heifer by any means. Having said that, I don't know how some of the larger members of our society fit into that machine. I had to scrunch up my shoulders into my body as tight as I could and they still rubbed the edges on the way in. Not only that, but I had literally 2-3 inches of clearance from my face to the top of the tube. (imagine if I looked like Adrien Brody?) They must have to grease up fat pigs like Oprah and Rosie to get their elephant- asses in there. Either that or dangle a donut down at the other end of the tube. Either way, that's not a very nice thing for me to say and more importantly, I'm digressing....

When I showed back up with the MRI a few days later, he glanced at it and immediately said "Oh... wow."

Words that instill confidence, eh?

"You have a severely ruptured disc" he followed. "It's actually broken into pieces." Oh joy.

to be continued........

I'm not quite dead yet!

2005-08-24T22:27:00.000-04:00

Due to some family issues, I haven't had the time or energy to bang something out.

Deal with it.

- Cod

Boring, Part 2

2005-08-18T10:45:00.000-04:00

We started small, just seeing what a smokebomb or two would do to a mailbox. Unfortunately, it didn't satiate the never ending voices in my head that scream for death, destruction and mayhem nonstop. Slowly driving me crazy day by inevitably leading me to SMASH IN MY FOREHEAD WITH A BALL-PEEN HAMMER!!... but it was ok anyways.

Realizing that these things weren't quite causing widespread panic in the streets like we had hoped, it was decided that there was a desperate need for a radical change in our grand scheme to control the world with 20 smokebombs on a Wednesday afternoon.

-----------------------

Derek's house was right across the street from the stretch of beach that the south side of the bridge was built on. The end of the bridge itself was built on a man-made sand dune that was about 30 feet in height. Hiking from the beach to the bridge, while it required going up a steep hill, provided us with some much needed cover for our next plan of attack.

One of us (I'm not naming names but his initials are Derek) convinced me, with a vicious twist of my arm, that throwing the smokebombs at cars would be a great idea.

Of course it would be!

It wouldn't exactly be throwing, per say. It was more like "lobbing" them over the rail into oncoming traffic. Much fun would ensue. Of course we didn't think about that it could have caused an accident or something, what 14yr olds would?

We had actually used this same strategy earlier on for lobbing eggs onto oncoming cars, to rave reviews. But that's another story...

-------------------

We had already established some ground rules that we had learned the hard way with the eggs...

First, always pick a car from the traffic going ON to the bridge and definitely the first in a line of at least 3 vehicles. That is so they can't slam on the brakes and back up, thus making us run like schoolgirls our mommy.

Most importantly, NEVER hit a pickup truck. They are more likely to have some pissed off guy looking to go the extra mile just to kick some little punk's ass to teach him a lesson.

(if I could only use my powers for good, not evil)

-------------------

Well, we snuck up into place, picked out a car, struck the match and... nothing. The friggin' wind from another car had put out the match.

Ok, here comes the next car.

Get ready.

Light it!

Go! Throw it!!

(I watch as the smokebomb sails not only over the car, but over both lanes of the bridge and onto the beach on the other side)

Nice throw, Marino... now we have to let the smoke clear and try again in a few minutes.

(a few minutes later)

Ok, here comes the next car. Don't fuck it up this time.

Get ready.

Light it.

Go! Throw it... easy!

(the smokebomb is lobbed beautifully over the rail.... hits the passenger side of the car perfectly, the driver never notices.... and immediately bounces back over the rail and into Derek's lap)

Of course, in his lap was the paper bag full of the remaining smokebombs.

Now, being experienced in the pyrotechnic field, I felt it important to immediately offer up my advice on which emergency plan-of-action that he should use in this particular instance.

I calmly explained to Derek that removing the now- flaming smokebomb from the paperbag containing the others might just be the best option in this instance, but I'm not sure that he heard me.

Afterall, I was saying it over my shoulder from 100 yards away as I sprinted towards safety.

Later, while watching the smoke of the 20 smokebombs start to clear from the crisp, autumn air...I noticed a figure stumbling about in the darkness.

It seemed to me to be some sort of monster. One that quite possibly was on fire, to boot.

After it disappeared back into the darkness, I went back to my Bruins game that I was now enjoying on TV.

Then... I hear a noise from outside.

I think to myself, is it the monster? Is it the driver of the car? That wasn't offsides, dammit!!

Then, Derek stumbles into the house, looking dazed and confused with a smoke trail fully in tow. When he moved around, he actually looked a bit like one of those mosquito-fogging trucks that our town uses.

After getting him to snap out of it between goals, I asked him to explain what had happened....

He said that some of the smokebombs were in the pocket of his sweatshirt and in all the commotion the lit one ended up there as well. He said that he couldn't get it out of his shirt and he was rolling all over the beach trying to get the sand to put them out. After getting me to stop laughing, he asked where I was while all that was happening. Where was his best friend in his time of need?

Without missing a beat, I assured him that I was right there with him trying to help out as he danced around with flames and smoke shooting out of his shirt. (afterall, he couldn't see me because of the smoke, right?)

He then gave me a dirty look and headed for the bathroom to presumably put out any embers that might flare up again. I never saw him again for the rest of the night except for the occassional glow walking by as he got up for a glass of water.

------------------

From then on, he didn't adhere to my advice anymore when it came to blowing up shit. I don't know why.

------------------

It's boring here in NH

2005-08-16T14:25:00.000-04:00

Winters have always been a time of intense boredom around these parts. Yes, we have more than our share of things to do in the summer. But, as I suspect that it is in all seasonal communities, after the tourists go home everyting comes to a screeching halt.

No more women from strange lands looking to show a local boy just how great their town is.

No more watching jackasses see who can fluff up their chest the most after about 18 beers a piece.

No more people spending money like a drunken sailor. Hey, wait a minute! I think that I just figured out why I'm so broke all the time. Hmmm.....

Anyways, such is the time that one must amuse himself (not that way, there is always time for that). You have already read about my foray into the aeronautics industry. That is just one example of the hijinks that tend to accompany myself when there is nothing to do.

---------------------

My friend Derek used to live right on the beach (from what I hear, he's back there again). His house was located on the one small strip of sand that is still Hampton, even though it was on the Seabrook side of the Hampton River Bridge.

It was there that I spent many an exciting evening, inevitably followed up by one boring morning after another.

One day while walking back over the bridge towards Derek's house, we stopped at a convenience store that was located right before the bridge.

We used to go in there and beg the twin brother's who owned it to sell us beer. Usually with no luck, but occassionally they would want to go fishing for free, so we would work out a trade that was perfect for us. We would sneak them on the boat at zero cost to us and they would throw us a case or two for the effort. It worked out well for everyone. Well, until the time that ....nah, that'll have to wait for now.

Back to the story...

When we walked in, my eye immediately caught something that hadn't been in the store before...

Smoke Bombs!!

No, with me being the pyro that I am, this was like waving a steak in front of a hungry dog.

We immediately bought every one that they had in stock with visions of anarchy dancing in our twisted little heads.

Of course, we didn't get three feet outside the store before I had to light one up. I had to make sure that they weren't the little gay ones that hardly put out any smoke and would last only 30 seconds. Thankfully, my purchase was rewarded with a thick, quite colorful, long-lasting plume of acrid smoke.

I couldn't have been more excited.

Afterall, this was at a time when you couldn't buy fireworks on a regular basis anymore. This was the next best thing.

Now we were armed.....

(to be continued)

----------------------------

Home, crap home

2005-08-15T09:12:00.000-04:00

Well, we're back.

Yippee.

Back to the world of overdue bills, doctor appointments and other such things.

---------------------

The weekend was one giant whirlwind of....(hmmm, what's the best way to describe this?)..... activity.

Then we came home.

That's it.

- Cod

Day 2 (and a half)

2005-08-11T10:53:00.000-04:00

I tried to write last night, but apparently blogspot was doing some maintenance or some shit.

If there are any typos, it's because I didn't proof read it. I don't want to be sitting here any longer than I have to.

--------------

Yesterday began with Pocket Cod and I deciding to hop in the canoe and strike out for distant waters. Actually, we just rowed up the shoreline a bit, but it's the furthest that I have been from land in some time. It's not quite hauling gear out on the hague line in February, but it'll have to do for now.

We did pretty well just trolling along, catching 5 more smallies and half a dozen or so rockbass. It wasn't all that long ago that I didn't even know what a rockbass was. When I was a kid, we'd catch nothing but smallmouth bass, salmon and trout here. Now, the rockbass have infested the lake so bad that they hold a tournament every year to get rid of them. Whoever disposes of the most fish, wins. It is showing signs of working because a few years ago you couldn't even catch a regular bass.

Anyways, after a couple hours of that, we headed back to the house. Of course, the wife was waiting with something to do. The something to do was head out for ice cream and some more food.

Woohoo! We're outta control this year!

After having my overpriced, overmilked shake, we wandered around the harbor for a while. Which, if you have never been here, is quite small. The lake is around 8 miles long (if I remember correctly) and the harbor is tiny. Although, it is big enough to get a couple of ancient tour boats in. You gotta squeeze out every last tourist dollar, you know.

Upon arriving at the house, I mounted a trolling motor onto the canoe to make it easier to help the kids while we're fishing. Yup, that's the reason. It's not because I'm a lazy bastard and I didn't want to row the canoe anymore. Nope, that's not it at all.

Anyways, after a quick dinner Pocket Cod, Tre Cool and I headed out to hopefully catch a few fish before dark.

It wasn't as good as the morning, but we managed to scrape up 17 more fish. This time we added a yellow perch to the total. I haven't caught one of those in about 20 years, so I was a bit surprised. Pocket Cod also lost a big bass, the biggest I've seen thusfar, just before dark. He jumped a few times, but unfortunately threw the hook. That's too bad, I was hoping that he'd catch it. He would have remembered it forever.

When we got back, we hauled a minnow trap that I had set a bit earlier. We didn't have any minnows but we did have a hornpout (scroll down). I remember my grandmother catching those years ago with hotdogs, of al things, as bait. I haven't even heard of anyone catching one of those in a long time, so it was neat to see. The kids also got a kick out of the whiskers.

Well, that's about it. There hasn't been too much going on besides fishing. More people are showing up tonight and tomorrow, so it should be getting a bit more interesting.

- Colin

We have arrived!

2005-08-09T19:55:00.000-04:00

Much to my surprise, we have safely arrived at beautiful Lake Sunapee in one piece.

Already, I am considering this vacation an astounding success!

I didn't cause any traffic accidents on the way up. The Cod Mobile didn't break down, which was a concern upon leaving. Not so much breaking down as having the right-front tire blow on the highway at about 75mph. You see, she's a bit on the worn side... but still somewhat functional. Quite a bit like me, actually.

Also, I didn't get carted off by "the man" (which is always a plus)... who incidentally is always trying to keep me down. You know how The Man can be...

I also didn't succumb to the voices in my head that kept telling me over and over to "ram the next Mass-hole off the road who cuts me off on Rte. 93." Man, I'm telling you... those fuckin' people... wait, you know what? Screw it. This is going to be a relaxing week even if it kills me! I'm not going to get myself all wound up by typing about those fucksticks who can't drive. If only for the reason that Uncle Big Johnson wouldn't take too kindly to a fist-sized hole in his computer monitor. He'd probably put a Size 12- sized foot in my ass. (yeah, har-har... I probably wouldn't even feel it, so funny Bface)

Speaking of Uncle BJ, he thankfully had a computer all ready to go upon arrival (I'm sure that he had it flown in just for me) so I can keep up on everything.

If I had to recall everything that happens during this week solely by memory...well, you can read The Cod God Be Sicketh entries (it starts in the May archives) to see how that works. The ole brain doesn't retain the memory quite the way that it used to. Maybe it's the massive amount of painkillers that they have me on, you think? Not that I'm complaining....

Wait, what was I talking about?

--------------------

Anyways, after unloading the Cod Mobile, Pocket Cod and I headed straight for the dock to drown a few worms.

Normally, we just catch a bunch of rockbass with the occassional (sp?) smallmouth bass thrown in. Hell, you can even catch salmon off the dock in the spring, but that doesn't help me in the middle of August, now does it?

Well, the fishing was just a bit short of being incredible for this, or any time of year... compared to what we nomrmally catch. We had roughly 30 rockbass and even managed to scare up a dozen smallmouths, the last one being about 2lbs. Now if I could get a few of those to live with....

After fishing for a while with varying combinations of the Cod-Clan, we headed up the 9-gazillion stairs to start dinner.

BBQ steak tips, Cod Gal's famous pasta salad, some portobello mushrooms on the grill and some corn on the cob was the meal for the night. It was consumed while overlooking the lake a little before dusk. If that wasn't enough, there was also a perfect breeze coming off of the water.
It's now being followed up by the Sox game on the radio.

It doesn't get much better than this.

- Cod

Finally

2005-08-08T10:42:00.000-04:00

Barring any onforseen calamities, it looks like the Cod-clan will finally get a chance to get away for a while. And it's not just for visiting hours, this time.

We'll be heading up to the lake for a few days. Yes, the same lake where such displays of dignity such as blowing myself up with blackpowder and almost killing the neighbors with a potato happened.

With a little luck, I'll have a good post or two to post when I get back. That's assuming that I have cleared bail in time.

-----------------------

Prediction....

Pocket Cod will outfish everyone.

Emmy Cod, after much argument by her, will wear nothing but her bathing suit every day.

Tre-Cool will be bored and start pouting two hours after we get there.

The Cod Gal won't leave the dock and I won't drink up there for the first time in...well, a while. Damn wimpy pancreas of mine.

----------------------

For you that really don't want to go back to work yet, here are a few from the archives that you may or may not have already read to kill some time with....

Bface's Dr. Phil test... a personal favorite.

My encounter with a Cop who likes my cock. Funny, I didn't even get a ticket that day.

Did you know that I was once a rocket scientist? NASA ain't got shit in me.

I am also an experienced pyrotechnic engineer. "Experienced" certainly doesn't mean that I know what the hell I am doing.

Here is one about where I spent my formative years. And people wonder why shrinks gave up on me.

Last, but not least....my friends the tree rats and our ongoing love affair . Mmmm, tastes like chicken. Right, Sarah?
---------------------

That ought to hold all 6 of you for a few minutes. I'll bring along the digital camera and try to post something from up there. If I don't get around to it...oh well, you'll survive.

- Come On, Dumbass

Precious cargo

2005-08-05T10:56:00.000-04:00

Talk about locking up the family jewels.

Two weeks it was on there...amazing.

I know that the doctors have to be professional and all, but I would have been laughing my ass off...and that's a whole lotta laughin'.

Hooo boy!

2005-08-04T16:23:00.000-04:00

I'm just passing this along....

Your Typical Blog Entry

2005-08-02T08:42:00.000-04:00

----------------------------------

While cruising through a few blogs via the "next blog" button one day while bored, I realized one thing.....well, actually two. People from other countries REALLY love blogs and people in general are just plain dumb. Now, I say that with the full realization that I am a complete, and total moron and I'm cool with that. But, at least I know how to use a capital letter in the proper context. Well, Not All tHe tiMe buT 8 tiMEs out Of 10 daMmiT!

Here is an example of what I saw while perusing around.....

i woke up at and watched Seeinfeld.....that kramer is real wacky...i nhad a doctor appointment today i went and i came home...i did think about stopping at mcdonalds, but i didn't...boy my moma sur is a bitch all she do is watch oprah and springer all day long...i can't waigt until me and jenny get to go all the way..maybe after work on friday

That and/or this....

Ich habe an aufgewacht und habe Seeinfeld zugeschaut. ....that kramer ist wirklich verrückt. ..i nhad eine Doktorverabredung heute ich bin gegangen und ich bin nach Hause. ..i hat gedacht gekommen aufhaltend an an mcdonalds, aber ich didn't...boy mein moma sur ist ein Weibchen alles, das sie macht, ist Uhr oprah und springer den ganzen Tag lang. ..i kann nicht waigt, bis mich und jenny ganz gehen dürfen.. vielleicht nach der Arbeit am Freitag

-----------------------

It's my keen grasp of the obvious that separates me from the pack.

Overflow

2005-07-26T08:17:00.000-04:00

Some pig in Colorado was having "sex parties" and bangin' a bunch of high school guys each week. Apparently she wanted to "be cool" or some shit like that. All I have to say is... Where the hell were these women when I was in high school? We had Pam Smart, but she came with a catch. It's just not fair. Kids today have it too damn easy.

So, they scracth the space shuttle launch a few weeks ago because of a broken fuel gauge. Today, there are going to send that same shuttle back up with that same broken fuel gauge. What's the hurry? It wasn't important enough to chance it a few weeks ago, but now, all of a sudden it is? I just hope that get up and back without turning into dust.

Apparently, there was a sewage pipe that burst a few days ago near Revere Beach, Mass. Even though you can actually see toilet paper and baby ruth's floating around, people are still swimming there. I mean....geez, how desperate do you have to be to swim, not only in a toilet, a USED tolilet.
"Honey, what's that in your hair"
"Oh, it's just a lump of shit."
Maybe it's good sunblock, or something.

Alright, enough of this friggin' 95 degrees with 70% humidity shit. The last time that I checked, there are no rainforests in NH. We went from snow to rain until June to 95 degrees. We'll probably get a snowstorm next.

Well, it's just about official. The Cod Clan will be moving to a new Cod-Mansion sometime soon. We'll be moving to a sprawling estate in the Hampton's that's in a gated community. Well, if you consider trash cans at the end of the driveway a gate.... either way, it's a step up. I'm thinking of adding a family room if I can find another cardboard refrigerator box big enough.

I don't want to know anything about any "celebrities" other than maybe their names and when they will be appearing in Playboy, that's it. Anything else, no thanks.

Apparently, China is having a suicide epidemic. Hell, if I had to live there I'd kill myself too. That aside, the one thing that I noticed in that article is that they say that 2.5 to 3.5 million people unsuccessfully try to off themselves there every year. How can you not kill yourself if you really want to? It can't be that hard. Go jump off of or in front of something. I wonder if they have to stand in line to do it.

I see that Bubba Clinton was offered 20 head of cattle and 40 goats for his goofy, brillopad-hair daughter Chelsea from some dude in Kenya. I say that he takes it, it's probably the best that he can do. I can see why he would be reluctant seeing as he already has one angry cow in his life already.

And I can't go away without linking to this dumbass.

- Cod

ps- Has anyone seen Wheel Gun?

Why didn't I think of this?

2005-07-25T15:58:00.000-04:00

Hasn't this happened to everyone at one time or another?

Outdoors with the Codfather

2005-07-23T20:52:00.000-04:00

After getting to know The Codfather (aka Daddy Cod) in an earlier post, I thought that I'd show you some instances to prove that it's genetic....that I'm not a moron by choice. Incidentally, most of these "examples" take place in the outdoors where CF really gets back to his hunter-gatherer roots and really comes into his own.

-------------------

[authors note: I can count on one hand the instances where I have seen CF lose his cool, this is one]

The Codfather and I had been hearing for some time about how good that the duck hunting had recently been at the Isles of Shoals (You can see some cool pictures of the islands here). More so about a certain "hotspot" that the Codfather's roommate Tim, who also happened to be a New Hampshire Fish & Game officer, had found. Tim wouldn't give up the ghost and tell us exactly where amongst the islands that he was hunting, so after clearing it with the Codmother (I had a dentists appointment), we decided to get together with him and head out one morning before school to see what this "hotspot" was all about.

I woke up around 5am that fateful day, and the Codfather showed up right on time about 10 minutes later. After a 20-minute trip down the coast, we got to the boat-ramp around 5:30 and met up with Tim and his friends (who were already there) and got ready to head out.

The weather was crisp, the wind was light, I was skipping the dentist (my personal hell), we were going to a great spot and I was missing first period of school to go hunting. It couldn't get any better! We were poised to have the hunting trip of our lives!

Then it started....

The normal routine to launch the boat was that The Codfather would back the trailer down the ramp and I would back the boat off and drive it over to the dock, tie it up and wait for him. Well, the backing of the boat down the ramp worked ended up being the best part of the day....

The boat wouldn't start.

CF- why won't it start?

Me- I don't know

CF- well, what's wrong with it?

Me- (thinking that I did something wrong) uh, I'm not sure

CF- fix it if you can

Me- Dad, I'm only 12....

CF- (inaudible mumbling)

Me- (still trying to start it) did you get fuel?

CF- yes, I even took the fuel line out and cleaned it

Me- did you put it back in the boat?

CF- (snickering, while looking at the other hunters now gathered around the boat waitng for us to move) of course I did, how could I forget that? this isn't my first big boat-trip, you know

Me- (looking) well, it's not there

CF- what did you do with it?

Me- Me? Dad, you just picked me up...

CF- dammit! let's go back to the house

(tick, tick, tick)

After the 40 minute round trip to the house (where the fuel line was sitting on the porch right where he left it) and back to the ramp, we found ourselves in a similar predicament. Except that this time around we were pressed for time and CF was getting cranky.

The problem ended up being that the fuel in the fuel line was frozen from CF leaving it out on the porch the night before.

(tick, tick, tick, tick)

After sitting in the truck for 10 minutes to not only thaw out the fuel line, but to also get away from the dirty looks and muttered obscenities from some guys that were getting sick of waiting for us, we were off.

The 6-mile ride out to the "hotspot" was more or less uneventful. The more was when The Codfather got a face full of 38-degree water....the less was when I didn't.

(tick, tick, tick, tick)

With us now being at the "hotspot" which I was familiar with from my summers on the Party Boats, I knew that
that it was going to be much deeper water than we were used to anchoring our decoys in. Trying to help, I passed that information along to CF who had just then received feeling back into his face from the douching earlier...

Me- want me to add some extra line to the decoys? It's kinda deep here...

CF- Nah, they'll be ok.

Me- (dropping the first decoy-anchor over the side) The decoy weights are barely touching bottom and Tim said to add plenty of extra line because of the tide, too

CF- good for Tim, now hand me another decoy

Me- (just wanting to help) I have the extra line ready to go ...

CF- (in that "shut up son, I'm your Dad and I know more than you" voice) they'll be fine

Me- ok....

Well, we wrestled with those decoys for 15 minutes before DC finally said "Screw it, we'll fix them later after we get a few birds down".

(tick, tick, tick, tick)

Hell, that was fine with me. I was quite eager to have some fun. The birds were flying all around us and the guys in Tim's boat (about a half-mile away) sounded like they were fighting off an invasion or something. So, we sat back and waited for the first wave of birds over the decoys.

There ended up being one small problem... the decoys were making like real ducks and hotfooting it away from the boat at a pace that could only be described as "hauling ass!" Of course, now that the decoys weren't sitting properly the ducks wouldn't come near us. They were charging right on over to Tim's spread like Oprah jiggling over to a box of Twinkie's.

Me- (trying to break absolute silence in the boat) sounds like Tim is getting 'em pretty good

CF- (tick tick tick) yup

Me- want to go get those decoys? I'll fix them

CF- nope

Me- but...

CF- (tick, tick, tick, tick) No.

After about 5 more minutes of deathly silence and 30 more yards of hotfooting-it by the decoys...it was time.

tick, tick, tick, BOOM!!

CF- HAUL THAT ANCHOR!!

I scurried up there and hauled that anchor about as fast as any 12 year-old on the face of the earth could haul an anchor. Before I got it all the way in the boat, CF was already on the throttle. We crossed that 100 yards or so of open ocean between us and those wayward decoys in about 6.8 seconds. "Big Daddy" Don Garlits would have been damn proud.

Without stopping the boat and still going about Mach-5, he banked the boat in a hard turn, reached right over the side and grabbed all four strings at once. It really was quite an impressive maneuver.

He started yanking in all 48 decoys as fast as his stubby little arms could yank them, all the while yelling at them like it was somehow their fault for not staying where he wanted them to. "Fucking decoys! Why won't you stay where you're supposed to?!? What the hell is your problem anyways?!? You never do what your told, you friggin' buncha dumbass'!!"

While he was back there yanking, ranting and raving, it crossed my mind that I may be witnessing some sort of psychotic-episode or maybe a transformation, kind of like the Hulk or something. It was at that point, showing wisdom beyond my years, that I decided to tuck myself up in the bow. As far away from the hurricane at the stern as I could get.

I was having a transformation as well, from a normal, healthy child to a triple-jointed circus freak.

After watching the last of the decoys come flying back in the boat looking more like a Bald Eagles swooping down on some poor unsuspecting fish, we headed for home.

That ride home sure was awkward. You want to talk about a small boat getting smaller? I would have rather been at that dentist's appointment than be in that boat right then and there.

It was the first time that I had seen the Codfather lose it, so I didn't know whether to talk to him or to keep my yap shut. Instead of those two choices, I went for option C...trying to untangle the "Leaning Tower of Decoys" on the stern which prompted the only words to be spoken on the ride in...

CF- leave them alone

Me- ok

We got the boat hauled out of the water without incident (hallelujah!) and hopped in the truck to head for home. He immediately apoligized (which is a feat in itself) in his own way for pulling that nutty...

CF- uh...mmmm....uh, sorry about that back there

Me- that's ok, how are you going to untangle those decoys?

CF- I'm not sure. I may have to buy new ones.

Me- oh, that stinks....I don't know why they took off like that, maybe it was the tide?

CF- I do know one thing, I'm going to make sure that I have enough line on them next time for the deep water (giving a knowing smile)

Me- yeah, that's a good idea

CF- I'll do that right when I get home so they are all set. Hey, want to give it a try tomorrow?

Me- I think that I have a dentist appointment....

Pocket Cod

2005-07-23T20:44:00.000-04:00

Pocket Cod caught his first striper today.

Well, not his first, but his first without any assistance from myself.

He made the cast, he hooked the fish, he landed the fish.

The boy is definitely mine.

Things I have hit

2005-07-21T15:36:00.000-04:00

Any time that you hit anything while on a boat, it feels as if the world is about to end. I don't care if it is just a stick, log, or a rock. It's makes a loud noise and the boat shakes like David Wells' gut after going down some stairs.

Now, while being Captain I have hit everything from lobster buoys to channel markers. Undoubtedly, the two funniest ones that I have been involved with were as a crew member, not running the show. If I were the captain, it wouldn't have happened and if it did I sure as hell wouldn't be telling you degenerates about it!

Anyways, the first full-time commercial fishing job that I had was on this boat named the Jerri Ann. Jerri Ann was a big ole girl with a wide ass, and you should have seen the boat! (insert rimshot here, please)

Well, we used to leave the dock at 2am everyday and have our first string of gear hauled just in time for all of the pretty little tuna boats to show up and play "fisherman" between cocktail parties and fundraisers just long enough to fuck us up. Unfortunately, the owner of the Jerri Ann(my boss) also owned one of those pretty little boats and he would also go tuna fishing during the summer with one of our crewmembers firmly in tow.

Our job on the big boat, which I thought was catching fish, was to supply him with a 100lbs of fresh bait everyday and a few swimmers, to boot. He would leisurely wake up at 5am, stroll on down to the boat and steam out to where we were fishing in a third of the time that it took us, the bastard.

What he would do when he got out there was pull right along the stern, I would hand him down the box of herring, and off he would go to catch a huge fish, make a ton of money and be at the dock by noon. Not that I'm jealous or anything..

We had a nice little system going and it seemed to be working out well...until "Crash" (as we later called him) had a slip of the wrist, so to speak.

The morning had started out normally enough, we left early, got Massa his precious bait (god forbid he actually haul a bait net like everyone else) and then he pulled up to get it...

-------------------------

Now, the Jerri Ann is a big boat...at the time it was one of, if not THE biggest gillnet boat around. It was 65' in length, 22' across the stern and stood about 7 feet out of the water. The boat that Massa was on was a little piss-pot of a rig. It was about 35', which is decent enough, but it was narrow at the stern and only stood out of the water about 2' from rail to water.

-------------------------

....the transfer of bait from our boat, down to their boat went fine. It was when I stood up and waved to the Captain that everything was all set, that it all went awry.

It seems that while we were jockeying for position, the last move that Derek (captain) made was to put the boat in reverse. When he saw me wave, he instinctively rammed what he thought was the gear shift from the reverse position, forwards.

Well, that was the wrong lever.

Instead of putting the boat into forwards, he grabbed the throttle lever right next to it and put the boat into full-speed reverse. .

It all happened in such slow motion. I was yelling "wrong way!"....Massa's eyes getting as big as pie-plates...his crewmember clinging onto anything that he could....

Then the impact.

We hit that tuna boat at what seemed like 30mph, but was probably more like 3mph. The problem arose in the fact that the Jerri Ann weighed around 70 tons while the tuna boat weighed about 6. The tuna boat spun around in a circle, lurched over so fast that captain and crew went tumbling ass-over-tea-kettle and water began pouring over the rails sending gallons of water through the wheelhouse door (my personal favorite).

After what seemed like an hour, Derek realized that he had made a bit of a boo-boo and threw the boat into "forwards", thus ending the calamity before we sent Massa's tuna boat down to Davey Jones' locker.

While we were pulling away, Massa asked me "Why'd he do that?", kind of like Derek was playing a practical joke on him or something. At that point, I was just trying to hold it together...you know, because of the seriousness of the situation. I don't know why, but him asking me that made me lose it entirely and I ended up bursting out laughing, much to the chagrin of my Massa.

---------------------------

Massa, Derek's Dad, is a total asshole to everyone and everything, but to no one more so than Derek. He had been extremely hard on him about everything while he was growing up and not much had changed after he grew up.

With Derek smashing into his "baby", who knows how he was going to react?

We all gathered around the VHF speaker outside the wheelhouse to hear the conversation and have a few laughs. After a few minutes, we finally heard the call...

"You on there Derek?"

visibly shaking..."Yeah, Dad"

"You want to put out a few fenders next time?"

That was it! We couldn't believe it. I had never been so let down in my life.

I don't know if he was on some high dose of elephant tranquilizer that morning or what, because normally that would have cause his head to explode like that dude from the beginning of Scanners.

Throughout some conversation the rest of the day we found out that Derek had hit the tuna boat so hard that he ripped a few of the bunks clean off the inside of the hull. He also knocked some stuff off the wall of the engine room, but nothing too major. As far as the Jerri-Ann was concerned, we had a 2-inch scratch on one of the letters on the stern.

Next time, I'll share the other "crash story" that didn't involve me at the helm. It was much more spectacular.

75 foot party boat going 20mph + big rock = cool blog entry

Confidence

2005-07-16T09:18:00.000-04:00

So I open up my browser this morning, which is set to open my my local paper, The Portsmouth Herald, and I see this...." City water safe to drink despite pollutants "

Is it me, or is there something wrong with that headline?

It's nice to see my tax dollars at work.

This is disturbing

2005-07-16T00:17:00.000-04:00

After reading this I felt sick.

Then I felt like hopping in the car and heading down to Pitsburgh and "re-educating" this young fella by way of my foot up his ass...to start.

The poor kid is DISABLED!!

It's T-ball!!!

I'm so friggin' pissed right now that I.....shit. There's no point in getting wound up because there is nothing that I can do about it.... but I hope that someone else does. And don't give me that "the system will take care of it" bullshit. If he gets prison time, and that's a big "if", it will be too good for him.

Please shoot me...now

2005-07-12T08:38:00.000-04:00

I was just watching the local news and every now and then they bring in some local band or a band that is in town for one reason or another. Normally, the bands are ok but today, yeesh!

I think that it was quite possibly the worst band that has ever lived. Seriously. Just check out their name, "Harry and the Potters." The name says it all but the website is worth checking out just to see the picture on the intro page. Enter at your own risk, though. I didn't get past the picture.

------------------------

In other news, some dumb broad made her kids ride in the trunk while Lassie got to ride in the front seat. What the hell is going on? That's two psycho-moms in two months that have done that.

She just made the list.

- Colin

ps- if you're bored and need something to read, I did a running diary about the home run derby last night on my other blog...I also have something else that will be posted there in the next couple of days, as well

Meet the Family

2005-07-08T20:30:00.000-04:00

For lack of any creativity, I decided to interview the Cod-clan. I'll ask them a few questions and type their replies verbatim. By doing that, it may read a bit weird at times. Deal with it.

------------------------

First up...

Emmy-Cod.....5 years old going on 18.

Me- What's your name, rank and serial number?

EC- uh....whaaaaat did you say? What did you say, Daddy? Name, rank and cereal number? Cereal number?

Me- yeah, serial number

EC- cereal is YUMMY.....can I have some cereal please?

Me- not right now pumpkin

EC- ok, now what?

-----------------------

Me- Who are you?

EC- EMMY!! Who are you?

Me- I'm your Dad.

EC- ok, now what?

----------------------

Me- What's going on with the Red Sox bullpen this year?

EC- ..........

Me- Emmy (she turns her gaze from the tv)

EC- hmm?

Me- (repeats question)

EC- cause they're not winning this year...yes, that's their problem....they aren't winning and that's not good

----------------------

Me- What's your favorite food?

EC- chocolate ice cream

Me- that's not really food

EC- yes it is, to me...so what else do I need to do?

---------------------

Me- What is your least favorite food?

EC- umm....uhh....ummm....the food that I don't like with peanut butter....ummm...things I don't like are butter and jelly cause we don't have it....I like the jelly at camp

Me- What camp?

EC- the camp that um, go to the camp, that um, that we go to, we go to the camp, Pocket Cod you have to go to camp next week

Me- EC, you don't go to camp

EC- yes, I do....the camp that the (neighbors) took us to because I love it so much

Me- you don't go anymore

EC- I know

Me- ok, then you don't go, do you?

EC- (sung to the tune that only she knows) IlovecamplalalacampcampcamplalalaIneeditbumpbumpgotocamplalala......

------------------

Me- Why don't you clean your room?

EC- because, ah...what did you say?

Me- Why don't you clean your room?

EC- why don't I clean my room? because I don't want to keep it clean because I don't like it that way...I wanna keep it clean cause I like it that way cause I like to keep it clean that way cause I like it every day I try to not messy in my room again I keep doing it I don't know why

---------------------

Me- what do you think about your two brothers?

EC- they're very nice and they are very cute (she then hugs Pocket Cod and says...."I could love him so much I could kiss him" and then she kisses Pocket Cod....a fierce wrestling match ensues)

--------------------

Me- one more question, who is the most handsome man that you've ever seen?

EC- (without hesitation) you

Me- that's my girl
==============================================================

Next up, Tre Cool....13yrs old going on 6-feet under. Don't expect TC to be very entertaining, his answers will be bland and offer up nothing. He would make a GREAT politician!

Me- Name, rank, serial number?

TC- (strange look)....what?...what is a rank?

Me- it's used in the Army

TC- (irritated already) I'm not in the Army!

Me- I know....it's just, ah....forget it

(this is going well already)

-----------------------

Me- Ok, who are you?

TC- who am I?

Me- yes

TC- (really slow, like I'm a moron) I'm.... Tre...... Cool

-----------------------

Me- Who am I and why am I so damn good looking?

TC- (weird smile) are you talking about me or you?

Me- me

TC- You're Daddy Cod and you're not good looking.

Me- that's it? you're killing me here

TC- (nods)

-----------------------

Me- Who is your favorite Sox player?

TC- umm...ahhh...I'll go with Bill Mueller.

Me- Why?

TC- because he gets the bat on the ball and he's a decent defensive player

Me- So, he's just like you except that he gets the bat on the ball and he's a decent defensive player?

TC- hey, shut up!!

Me- (tee-hee)

(this is riveting, ain't it?)

---------------------

Me- How many chicks do you have chasing you around? After all, you do have the blood of Cod-Juan in you...

TC- (irritated) I don't know

Me- Ok, I didn't want to ask this but (sigh), how many guys, then?

TC- (evil look with dramatic pause)..... zero... (he turn and shakes his head obviously disgusted with his old man, yet again)

------------------

Me- What do you think about your brother and sister?

TC- they're cool but sometimes they get on my nerves

Me- just sometimes?

TC- basically all the time....the only times they don't is while I'm sleeping or they aren't around

Me- did you ever think that maybe it's you that bugs them?

TC- no...well, sometimes.....usually Pocket Cod just irritates me for the heck of it

(he really does)

----------------------

Me- Why won't you clean your room?

TC- cause I'm too fat and lazy...wait, don't type that, just cause I'm too lazy

Me- Why are you so damn lazy?

TC- (silence....then I poke him) ......I'm thinking ( more silence).....I don't know

Me- try not to talk too much

TC- ok

(I guarantee you that this is more painful to type than it is to read, so bear with me)
---------------------

Me- Who is the most handsome bastard that you have ever seen?

TC- (without hesitation) me

Me- if your so damn good looking, then why aren't there any people chasing you around

TC- I said that I didn't know how many. I didn't say that there aren't any.

(thankfully, that's it for Tre Cool. Let's move on)

==============================================================

Next up, Pocket Cod who is 8 going on MLB All Star.

Me- Why are we on this earth?

PC- someone discovered it

Me- discovered what?

PC- earth....no America

Me- ok, so someone discovered America and that's why we're on this earth?

PC- yeah

Me- wouldn't someone have to have been on the earth already in order to find America?

PC- no, cause I think that it was London or England that discovered America

Me- ok
-------------------------

Me- what is your favorite thing in the world?

PC- baseball

Me- I knew that you'd say that....why do you like it so much?

PC- cause I'm very good at it

Me- says who?

PC- (with a goofy smile) Meeeeeeee......

Me- you must have had a THE GREATEST BASEBALL TEACHER EVER....

PC- umm...yeah, I guess

Me- thanks
------------------------

Me- Why won't you eat eggs?

PC- because I don't like them at all...I don't like the taste of them

Me- well, how do you know that without eating them?

PC- because I ate them before and there Bleck

-------------------------

Me- Why don't you clean your room?

PC- I just cleaned it today

Me- for money

PC- for money!! for my game that I want to buy

Me- but why do you need money in order to clean?

PC- because I want to buy a game that I really want

Me- would you clean it for free?

PC- ummmm, yes

Me- now you're just lying for the people that read this

PC- no I'm not, but I just want a game so badly so I asked for money

-------------------------

Me- Why am I so cool?

PC- cause you look like me

Me- heh, no you look like me because I'm your Dad

PC- that's what I meant to say

Me- that you look like me?

PC- no, I look like me

Me- say what? what? I'm confused

PC- I don't care
-----------------------------

Me- Why is the sky blue?

PC- cause it's blue

Me- but why?

PC- cause its just blue with white in it....no, its black, it's black

Me- the sky is black?

PC- yes, its the sun that is reflecting on it...the sun is reflecting on the sky so it will stay blue

Me- the sun isn't black

PC- I know, I said the suns reflects on the sky so it will make blue

ME- but what causes the blue color?

PC- ummm, black

Me- black what?

PC- the black sky

Me- so black is blue

PC- the sun reflects on the black and makes it blue

Me- reflects off of what?

PC- the clouds, the sun reflects on the clouds and makes the black sky blue

Me- ok, sounds good

PC- Dad, without the sun we would be in the dark all the time and there would be no blue.

Me- ok, that clears it right up for me

----------------------------

Me- what do you think about having a sister and a brother?

PC- (gives the thumbs-down sign and let's a raspberry go...a real wet one)

Me- Well put.

==============================================================

Well, that's about it for the Cod Clan.

Public school....yeesh.

Women Facts

2005-07-06T21:22:00.000-04:00

Disclaimer for any and all women readers-- The author would like to let all of you emotional-wrecks know that this is written in jest, so try to control yourselves. He would also like to say that if you can't take it, you can forward all vitriol diatribe to that slack-jawed Llama, Oprah

------------------

I found these random facts while doing a search for something completely and totally unrelated to it. I would never want to see what the average woman is like so I could compare and see if I could pass for a chick while in drag so I could work the street for some extra money. Never.

You can read the original posting here.

------------------

The Average American Woman

Smith Sensei:: In today's English class, we'll be talking about the average American. to begin with, the average U.S. citizen is a married woman well on her way to ruining some poor dude's life age 32. That's because about 51.2% of the population are women seems like 90 percent and 32 is the median age that's when they are no longer worth dating, much less sleeping with. You have to constantly make sure that their soup stays hot so they know when their boobs flop into the bowl.....again.

Yamada: Interesting. and how many children does the "average" woman have?

Smith Sensei: She has 2.1 children. That rules out Jerry Springer fans and NBA groupies, who average 7....both in kids and teeth, or toofuss'

Yamada: How do you get the "point one"? Oprah probably came up with it.

Smith Sensei: Very funny.

Yamada: Just kidding. So how tall is the average woman?

Smith Sensei: She is 5 feet 4 inches. on the rare occassion that she actually gets up off of the couch I don't know what that is in centimeters.

Yamada: That's okay. I can figure it out. So what else can you tell me about the average American "woman" ? she's evil!

Smith Sensei: She is slightly overweight what a surprise, about 143 pounds try putting both feet on the scale and dieting I don't think that a diet coke while surpersizing your Big Mac Extra Value Meal counts, sweetie. Her dress size is size 10 or 12. that's a friggin' pup-tent

Yamada: Wow! That sure isn't the median size in Japan. Japanese women are much smaller! Yamada has a keen grasp of the obvious

Smith Sensei: Yes, but as japan adopts the American lifestyle, dress sizes will begin to increase in Japan as well. Hopefully they'll have some Walmarts there to sell chicks their bon-bons and muu-muu's in bulk, all within arms length. They'd better. You think that a Rhinocerous stampede is bad? Hell hath no fury like a woman bon-bon less.

Yamada: How true. So, keep going. Tell us more . How about religion?

Smith Sensei: She doesn't go to church on Sunday that's when they have all the good sales for bulk Pop-Tarts, but she believes in God. if there was a God, there would be no women

Yamada: How about money? they always seem to have it, they never seem to earn it

Smith Sensei: She makes less than $20,000 a year stealing from her husband's wallet from her white collar leave it to a woman to take the easy way out and avoid manual labor job. She lives in the state where she was born because she leeched onto the first guy that she saw and spends a third of her income ha! on housing. That must be a typo, I'm sure that they meant Ho-Ho's.

Yamada: Does she ever move? good lord no, she can hardly get off the couch

Smith Sensei: Yes, as a matter of fact. She'll move an average of 11 times in her life. just to go to the refrigerator and back But nearly all her moves will be within her home state. state of obesity

Yamada: Tell us some personal information

Smith Sensei: She wears contacts or glasses to see where her breasts ended up flopping off to, makes 6 phone calls a day to Domino's and has a TV, VCR, stereo, or radio that her husband paid for on 11 hours a day. while the washer and dryer go undisturbed

Yamada: How about crime? marriage should be one

Smith Sensei: You mean will she be arrested? her heart will be, after that last artery closes

Yamada: No. How is she affected by crime? she likes to watch Cops

Smith Sensei: She'll be a victim of crime an average of 3 times in her life. she'll be hit by a car while waiting for a flatbed to haul her ass to that Pop-Tart sale (hit-and-run....the driver panicked and took off...he thought that he had killed a Moose out of season)...Greenpeace will throw a tail-rope on her and tow her out to sea (kidnapping)....KFC will be charged for her murder after she chokes on one of the chicken buckets

Yamada: How about love and marriage? How about oil and water?

Smith Sensei: She has a 50% chance of divorce. that's also her Blood-Cheese level (think blood-alcohol level)

Yamada: That's not very encouraging. try living with them So what's the single most important fact that you can tell us about the average American woman? they are pure and simply evil

Smith Sensei: Well, she has 10 credit cards. and none of them are hers

Yamada: I should have known nobody could know the horrors that we men experience on a daily basis. Hey, do you know any American woman who's interested in meeting a handsome Japanese man? Not right now. Check back in when the Yen is stronger against the dollar and you'll have your pick of the pasture.

Smith Sensei: This isn't a dating service. If it were, it would be cruel and unusual punishment.

---------------------------

This Public Service Message brought to you by 9 years of marriage.

That's a biggun'

2005-06-30T21:32:00.000-04:00

Boy, that's one big smelly pus....er, catfish.

You can read about it here. I deliberately chose this news site just to piss off Bob.

- Cod

Uh.......eeewwww!!

2005-06-28T22:19:00.000-04:00

I don't even know how to react about this.

On the one hand, I am completely and thoroughly disgusted.

On the other hand....you have to respect the devotion to his "craft".

Time out

2005-06-28T14:37:00.000-04:00

Due to some personal considerations, I'm not sure when I am going to be able to post again. It could be as soon as tomorrow, or as late as this weekend.

Stay tuned.

- Cod

ps- if anyone wants to do a guest post, email me and let me know....I tried to do that a few months ago but nobody had the balls to take me up on it

It's Pocket-Cod's world and we're all just paying rent

2005-06-23T18:40:00.000-04:00

With Tre-Cool and Pocket-Cod just having finished school for the summer, I thought that it would be nice to take them out fishing along with Daddy-Cod. Well, we couldn't exactly do it without Daddy-Cod seeing as how he is the one with the boat. Those usually come in handy.

The conversations usually go like this....

Me- Hey DC, want to go fishing?

DC- sure

Me- Ok, you go hook up the boat and I'll be down there in an hour.

DC- oh, ok.....so, we're using my boat?

Me- well, yeah.....why do you think that I always invite...well, since you have the nicest boat around, I figured that you wouldn't want to use anyone else's

DC- well, it is nice

Me- The best! So, you go back up the truck to the....

DC- wait, we're using my truck too?

Me- well, yeah....you need a nice truck to tow that beautiful boat of yours and you have the best one!

DC- well, I guess you're right...it is a nice truck....

Me- Damn right it is! Anyways, after you hook the boat up make sure that you swing by the gas station and fill it up on the way to pick me up

DC- I have to pick you up now?

Me- well, yeah....after all, I did buy a dozen worms just for you....Jesus, you're ungrateful

And so on, and so on....

So, with DC on board (no pun intended) all I had to do was convince the boys to come as well. After some great deliberation and self-reflection (he hesitated for about .09 seconds), Tre-Cool declined. That's ok, all he does is bitch about how bored that he is while fishing anyways. Another casualty of the computer age. Oh, well.

It ended up being just DC, Pocket-Cod and myself.

------------------------

Pocket-Cod and I headed down to DC's pad around 11:45 or so. That was after I finished cleaning up the mess that I made while making breakfast in bed for the Cod Gal this morning. That's right.....the Cod Gal lives large in this man's palace. Sorry ladies and Wheel Gun Bob, I'm already taken.

Back to the trip....

In fine DC fashion, he had absolutely nothing ready when we showed up at his house. It wasn't like this was a last minute thing either. We had planned on it for a few days and I even showed up about a half-hour late on purpose just so he would get his shit together. I shouldn't even be surprised at this point, but I am.

After PC and I loaded our stuff in the boat, we stood around for several minutes wondering if this man in front of us was not DC, but an escaped lunatic from the local psych-ward. He just kept stumbling around tripping over everything while muttering to himself like Rainman. What I failed to notice with all the stumbling and swearing was that he kept on going to the back of the garage and bringing out armloads of stuff which he would then unceremoniously plop in front of me.

It was after the 4th or 5th of these loads that I had to remind him that we were not boarding a Cruise Ship for a week long excursion, but only going out for a few hours in a 22 foot boat (that he built from scratch, I might add). Maybe he had just been watching Gilligan's Island before we showed up and wanted to stock up for the storm that was-a-brewin'.

After some brief "discussion" and a huge compromise on my part, I convinced him to bring only the bare necessities....You know, 3 rods, 3000 yards of line, approximately 200 hooks, 50 pounds of sinkers and 75 lures.

After the flatbed truck and the forklift left, we hopped in his truck and started the long and arduous trek to the boat launch. You can actually see his house from the boat ramp, but judging by the way that he strapped everything down, there are a lot of hurricanes this time of year on that lonely half- mile stretch of Rte 1 this time of year. It took longer to put all the tie downs on than it did to drive the damn boat there!

After surviving Hurricane Alley and making it to the ramp alive, Pocket-Cod and I hopped into the boat to await DC backing us down into the river. But, before we could do that we had to take the tie-downs off. I took off the ones assigned to me ok, but....well, he left one on. Not only that, but he also forgot to remove the large metal pole-like bracket that holds the motor in position while you travel.

So, while backing down I heard a loud clang followed by two crunches. One crunch was the pole falling off and being squished by the truck. The second crunch was after half of the ratcheting tie-down fell off and becoming smashed equally as well. Hey, if anyone needs half of a ratcheting tie-down, there is one at the bottom of the Hampton River by the Depot Road boat launch. Just thought that I'd pass that along. I am a full-service blog after all. Just ask any of the transients at the bus station.

After (ahem) successfully launching the boat, Pocket-Cod and I picked up DC after he parked his truck and off we went heading into the unknown.

During a brief stop at the local tackle shop for some sea worms, I saw a boat that I used to work on. While I was talking to the dude that owns it, he gave PC some sound advice. He said "If you don't catch anything, you tell your Dad to get some nets and bury the place! You'll catch something. Of course, PC immediately wanted to set 1000 nets all over the place but I convinced him to try it with a rod and reel to start. The boy is definitely mine.

After casting off ....god, I can't believe that I just used "casting off" in a sentence. I sound like such a blow-boater, with the emphasis on blow.

Let's try that again....

After "letting go" (it's a commercial fishing thing),we headed out for the mouth of the river. Apparently DC had some "hot spot" around there that he used to catch flounder at all the time. Little did I know (at the time) that it was 20 years ago when he last fished there, but we had to start somewhere.

When we got there DC informed me that he had an anchor stored up in the forward compartment and asked me if I would get it for him. I crawled under there, found some rusty piece of shit that resembled something that some hallucinating-epileptic-dry heaving artist might create while going through detox. I hadn't seen an "anchor" like that since I saw a painting of the Mayflower back in grade school. Hell, it probably was the same anchor.

After trying to set the anchor 5 times....and then hauling the anchor back 5 times (during which he almost pulled me over the side 3 times because he didn't realize that the boat was in gear), I told him that the tide was running too hard to anchor and we had to try a drift. (I only told him that the tide was running hard so he wouldn't feel bad about the way that he was handling the boat...lots of circles, side to side, running over the anchor line, going forwards when I asked to go in reverse, those type of things....he drives the boat like an arthritic kangaroo with cataracts)

Unfortunately, we learned quite quickly that the drift was too fast so we had to run out a little bit further away from the river where the tide wasn't running so hard. I was starting to be a bit concerned that Pocket-Cod would become bored and want to go home soon. After all, we had been dubbing around with the anchor for the better part of 30 mins at that point.

Once we got away from the river a bit, we found a nice looking spot and dropped the hook (anchor). Luckily, it fetched up right away. Success!! Finally, we were going to be fishing!!

PC got comfy in his chair, and dropped his sea worm to the bottom. I did the same towards the stern of the boat and settled in for what I thought would be a long wait.

Within two minutes, I hooked up to a nice fish and started to reel it in. While I was fighting it (and secretly hoping that it wasn't a sea robin or a skate), PC hooked up to a nice fish as well. Hell, the only way that I even knew that he was hooked up to a fish is by hearing his reel as he was winding the fish in.

Upon getting my fish close to the surface, I was psyched to see that it was a flounder. While unhooking it and straining my arm while patting myself on the back, PC got his fish to the surface. Not only did he have a flounder as well, it was twice the size of mine! Good for PC! His first flounder! Hopefully he'll be having some fun now.

After hooting and hollering for a minute, I unhooked his fish, gave him a huge hug and put on another sea worm for him. He dropped his line back to the bottom and before I could even rebait my line, he had another fish on. A few seconds later, he had flounder #2 flopping around on deck.

Lather, rinse, repeat.

The fishing was hot over the next ten minutes, but as is the nature of flounder fishing it stopped as quick as it had started. When it was all said and done, he had 3 keeper flounder in the boat (one of which was HUGE!), 2 throwbacks, he lost two more, and also landed one skate and one stone crab.

Not bad for an 8-year old kid who had never fished for flounder before.

I ended up with 2 keeper flounder, 2 throwbacks, and I lost 2. I have never been so happy to not catch as much fish as the "man" next to me.

Forget about Daddy-Cod? Well, I did while all this was going on. He somehow tangled himself up 3 times, then caught a deformed skate after PC and I had pulled up our lines to move to the next spot.

------------------------

On my urging, we had to try one more spot. But while on the way to said spot, we had a bit of an incident. We were headed up river when we started to pass a commercial fisherman that was a friend of Daddy-Cod's. He had his door open to the wheelhouse, so DC started bellowing to him about something or rather. I wasn't paying too much attention to what he was saying, I was paying more attention to the 90-foot party boat headed our way. DC yapping and not paying attention + Party boat with a 5' wake behind it = not good for us.

DC-(blabbing to other boat)

Me- Dad, do you see that boat?

DC- yeah, I see it (back to yelling)

Me- Dad, watch the boat....

DC- (blah blah blah)

Me- (grabbing PC and holding him) he's throwing a big wake!

DC- (Charlie Brown's teachers voice....wah wah, wah wah, wah wah)

Me- DAD! DAD!!....WAKE!!

DC- (looking up) oh...

We took three hard shots from their wake dead on. Luckily, I was holding Pocket Cod in my arms and I bent us forwards at the last second. My head took the brunt of the impact against the edge of the windshield but that saved his face from getting smashed against the windshield. Hey, what’s three more lumps on my head at this point? To be fair to DC, the boat did accelerate and threw a wake when he shouldn't have been. Still, he should have paid more attention. The man ran party boats and is the Harbormaster, for chrissakes!

-----------------------

My hotspot is right next to the bridge in a place where it quickly drops from 20 feet down to 45 feet. Not only that, but the tide runs like hell there as well, so it makes for a nice spot for fish to hang out.

To make a long story short, after we got there the anchor wouldn't catch, yet again. Luckily, after a few minutes of screwing around, she fetched up real solid. We then immediately went into a spin that Maverick (cheesy 80's movie reference) would've been proud of. The boat did circle after circle because, lucky us, we were perfectly situated in a giant eddy. After 5 minutes of catching nothing and 4-foot wakes from other boats, we had had enough and decided to head for the barn.

Easier said then done.

Apparently, the reason that the anchor fetched up so well this time was because it had hooked a trawl of lobster traps. Without hydraulic help to get it up (where is Wheel Gun Bob when you need him?) and the tide running like a river (imagine that, the tide running like a river in a river...whouda thunk it?), we had no choice but to cut it free. Now it's back with its ancestors that were laid to rest so long ago.

After that, we headed back towards the launch ramp and made it there without any major mishaps. When we got back, we filleted the fish, scrubbed up the boat and came back to the Cod Mansion no worse for the wear.

- PC and Cod

My Job (well, it was...)-Part 6

2005-06-21T21:31:00.000-04:00

Jesus, it's been a week since I tortured everyone with my last entry. How times flies here at home-shit-home.

Speaking of that, it looks like we'll soon be moving. We'll be leaving the Cod Mansion for an upgrade....the Cod Estates. That's another story for another time.

Where am I? I mean, where were we?

Oh yeah, the endline is up and we are hauling the gear. Woo-hoo!

-------------------------

After the end line has been hauled and the net is coming up, it becomes time to pay attention. Like I mentioned in My Job-part 5, (wow! Trot Nixon just made a GREAT catch!!....yeah, yeah, back to fishing) hopefully the end of the string isn't all twisted up like Snoop Dogg and it starts to come up smoothly.

While hauling the nets, we all have certain jobs that we have to do. The way that one person does his job directly affects the others as well. If you have some jackass screwing things up, everything gets fucked.

You have the captain who is at the hauling station controlling the net-lifter and the boat. If all is going smoothly, he doesn't have to do anything besides that.

After the captain, there is a man who stands immediately behind him (if your name is Billy, you stand extra close) and keeps the net from tangling up on the net-lifter. Remember that tuna-can on steroids thing that I described earlier? That thing.
He has the easiest gig going. All he does is keep moving the net down the table and clearing a few fish as they come around. Clearing the fish is when you untangle the fish from the net so all you have to do is "pick" it out. Only if we get a lot of fish in the net(s) does he ever have to fish. Naturally, the laziest guy usually loves this position.

---------------------

Now, we usually only went with the captain and two crew members because we were extremely fast. We out-fished boats that had 3 or sometimes even 4 crewmembers on deck. I'm not tooting our own horns, just stating facts. Looking back after surgery on both wrists and my back, I think that we should have taken that third guy and made a little less money (every boat allots the same percentage of the money made after each trip to the crew, no matter how many that there may be) every trip. Oh well, live and (never, for me) learn.

---------------------

With our normal crew of two, the next guy down the table would be right at the very end....my usual haunt. Hey, shit flows downhill (or down table in this instance) right?

The guy at the end does most of the work. The first 6-10 fish come straight down the table to you. Anymore than that, the man at the net-lifter will start picking fish. He also packs all the nets. With each net weighing 100lbs while wet and there being 100-120 nets a day to pack, it can wear out the arms and shoulders after a while. In addition to tossing the nets, you need to also figure in that the man at the end of the table picks most of the fish (which weigh between 7 to 40lbs) and then tosses them across the table over the deck and into a pen that is about 7 to 10 feet away. It's all a nice recipe for some tired wings...or torn tendons in the shoulder (me again).

If there happens to be a third crew member on that trip, he would stand almost directly across from the captain and his boyfriend (Billy) clearing the nets from the net-lifter. He will only pick fish out of the net when the man at the end got backed up. If he wasn't needed at the table to pick fish, he would be by the fish-pen, where the fish first go after removed from the gillnet, dressing fish (removing the gills and guts) and basically being our soda-bitch. He would be closest to the fridge, so was constantly going in and out to get us stuff.

So, that would go on for as long as it would take to haul the string. The standard amount of time to haul a string would be about an hour. It can go as fast as 35-45 minutes, but that was quite rare. On the other hand, we have also had it take several hours do to the amount of fish. It can also vary because of the weather, the tide, the shitheads that you have for crew that trip etc. etc.

After hauling the string, hopefully you have lots of fish to cut. When that happens, we have two guys cut the fish and one guy gut them. The proper way to dress a fish is to make a quick cross-cut to free up where the gills attach to the underside of the head, another quick cross-cut where the throat attaches to the gills (making sure to cut the throat all the way through to the spine), and one straight cut from the throat across the bottom of the belly and finishing at the anus. This should take anywhere from 1-2 seconds.
To properly gut a fish, you grip the fish (it varies from person to person as to where they exactly grab it), grab the gills firmly and rip them out in one quick motion. After that, make a downwards sweep through the stomach cavity of the fish with your hand somewhat opened grabbing all the guts along the way. This should also take about 1-2 seconds, if you are any good. Once you finish that lovely chore, you throw the now gut-free, but quite bloody, fish into a big tank full of water in order to rinse it off.

Once all the fish are done, you need to put them into the fish hold to ice them down and properly store them for the trip. I'll explain that next time.

to be continued....

- The Notorious C.O.D.

Interesting

2005-06-21T17:14:00.000-04:00

Just substitute my name, Wheel Gun Bob, or Bface in this and it would apply perfectly.

My Job (well, it was...)-Part 5

2005-06-14T10:17:00.000-04:00

So, there I was....me, the drunk, and the dumb guy.

And no, I wasn't by myself, wiseass.

Actually, I was trying to think of someway to start this entry and that first sentence was something that I would say when we were hauling gear. Hey, when you fish with the same couple of guys for a long time, there are lots of running jokes.

That's the one thing (well, it's more than just that) that I miss the most since I've been left ashore after I blew my back out....making fun of everyone. It always made the trip go along so much smoother. No matter how miserable someone or something would be....ah, forget it. It's not important.

Back to the fishing...

So, now we have hauled the entire endline and have come to the money end, the net(s). On a good day, the end won't be twisted up like cable, but it usually is. If the tide is running, sometimes the absolute end of that would get swung around and doubled back on the string of nets. That's always fun. You end up hauling a 1/4 mile of nets in one giant fucking ball. Of course there are always several spider crabs (scroll down to see the pic and please disregard the Yankees hat, it's the best picture that I could find) that have about 18 layers of net on them and you can't get them out . That's always a positive way to start the day....especially when its blowing about 30 and your getting knocked around. Good times.

Back to it....

We use a gillnet lifter to haul the nets. It's quite a unique machine, actually. It looks like a giant tunafish can with a groove that is dead center around the outside of the "can". It uses these "hammers" with teeth that are tethered by extremely strong springs and when the lifter spins around, they are retracted and released, gripping and releasing the leadline and the floatline together in the groove, and up comes the net.

Well, thats the theory, anyways. You do have to pay much more attention while hauling gillnets than any other fixed-gear like lobster traps or long lines. Some people can do it well, some people just can't. You can usually tell around the pier the people who can haul nets or not just by the way that they handle their boat(s) around the dock. If they send you running for cover while trying to tie their boat up, they generally don't understand the principles about boat handling and will therefor tear the shit out of the gear.

That reminds me of another quick story...

We were in from fishing working on the boat one day when a boat from Newboryport, Mass came in. He had originally tied up behind us on the pier because somebody was already at the takeout (the spot reserved for unloading your catch) ahead of him.While he was walking by, he looked at the water rushing by in the river and then asked me what would be the best way was to come into the takeout ( it can be pretty tricky). We have one of the hardest tides in the country and if you get screwed up around the pier, there is nothing you can do but crash, and hope that you don't hurt anyone and/or destroy a boat or two.

One morning after a particularly strong moon-tide, we came down to go fishing and the boat was gone! So was the one that we were tied up next to. There was just an empty spot where the tide had ripped the two boats off of the pier. We just kind of stood there dumbfounded until we saw some lights down river that turned out to be the two boats. Luckily, they had laid up next to another pier that stuck out into the river and it prevented both of them from hitting the bridge together. I can't imagine the damage that it would have done if that had happened.
Anyways, the tide had ripped 3 12" cleats (those t-shaped things that are on every boat and dock) that were through-bolted a 2'x2' beam and another foot and a half of dock. So, needless to say, there is a lot of water moving around there.

Back to Mr Dipshit and his question...

I explained to Wonder-mutt that you just eased the nose of the boat over ever so slightly and let the tide slowly push it in. No problem, he said....and it wasn't. It was when he decided to leave that we had a problem.

Now, Dennis (my captain/co-worker at the time...the reason that I say that is because I ran one of his boats and he ran the other at the time) had gone down to tell Wonder-mutt how much harder that it would be to get out of the takeout safely if you didn't do it right. He explained that all you had to do was push the nose of your boat out into the tide and (once again) let the tide do the work for you.

Wonder-Mutt replied "I know how to drive a boat! This isn't my first day on the water!"

Dennis calmly explained that the reason that he was telling him this was that it would be his boat that Wonder-Mutt would be smashing into if he were to screw up.

Wonder-Mutt said something derogatory under his breath and hopped on his boat to take off.

And guess what Wonder-Mutt did after he let the lines go? Did he listen to everyone and let the tide do his work? No, of course not. He turned it broadside to the tide and the tide immediately smashed him into our boat. At the time, I happened to be on the overhead bolting down a new storage rack that we had just received and I never saw him coming.

He hit us so hard that he knocked me off of the overhead and onto my ass in the netpen (luckily). That's not a terribly fall far(about 7 feet), but if I landed awkward, it could have sucked.

The only redeeming quality of the situation was that his boat was much smaller than ours and when he hit us with the broadside of his boat, the bow of our boat cut right into his hull and rail like a knife through butter. Our boat ended up about 6" through his hull his and into his deckspace.

I may have giggled once or twice once I saw what had happened.

So, not only did he only ignore everyones advice and smashed into our boat, he was stuck there for the next few hours until the tide slacked up a bit and he could pry our boat out of his. To top it all off, he never came out of his wheelhouse once to say sorry or look at the damage. He just sat there like a loser with our boat stuck in his and everyone staring at him, from fisherman to tourists. Even the local paper got a picture of it.

He never came into Portsmouth again that season.

to be continued.....maybe I'll actually get to the catching of some fish next time

-Cod

My Job (well, it was...)-Part 4

2005-06-12T11:02:00.000-04:00

Well, where did we leave off?

Oh yeah. We are all going beddie-by on the first night.

-----------------------------

After what was (hopefully) a good night's sleep, we wake up at 6am. Well, we get up at 6, invariably someone is already awake because of the thrashing about that the boat takes when there is a little bit of weather. Tools bang around in toolboxes, drawers sqeak, some jackass left something on the dinette table and its sliding around....things like that.

Anyways, the first person who gets up (usually me) takes a few minutes to make coffee. Now, we don't have any of those wussy coffee makers that most of you have sitting on your kitchen counter as we speak. We have a 45-cup percolator strapped to the wall. The reason that we don't use a regular coffee maker is twofold. One, it doesn't brew enough...these guys would go through a pot before we even got our shoes on. And two, they are too messy. Every time that the boat rocks, the coffee that is dripping from the filter to the carafe gets sloshed side-to-side in mid air and spills down the side and onto the burner making for a nasty smell and an even nastier me. I don't much care for the smell of burned coffee.

We would usually brew up a gallon of coffee at the time and seeing as how only two of the guys drink it regularly throughout the day, you can usually get most of the day out of it.

After sitting around for 45 minutes to an hour getting the cobwebs out of our (perennially empty) heads while eating something small, we would get dressed and put our rain gear on (no small feat in itself) and then drag our sorry asses out on deck to get ready to haul the anchor and go to work.

After having hauled the anchor, off to the first string we go. It was usually within a half-mile or so but sometimes you had to steam a few miles into some shitty weather which would always start everyone off in a foul mood. Nothing like some spilled coffee or a nice shot of icy water dumped over your head to get the attitude in a bad place.

While on our way to the first string, I would set up whatever it is that we were going to listen to for the day. If it was in the summer, we could usually get several radio stations in. If it were in the winter, it was CD's all the way. The reason that I was nominated as the music man was that I was the only one who owned more than 8 CD's and would dare to bring them on the boat. Well that, and all their CD's sucked. My captain once gave me a "Pink" CD to put in. I handed it right back to him and told him to put it away before I slapped him baldheaded.

----------------------

That reminds me...

One time, my captains buddy (who was also a fisherman) was filling-in with us for a few trips. It was during one of these trips that they discovered, of all things, a "Supertramp" tramp. Now, being the children of the 80's that they were, they would play this tape every-fucking-day after lunch. Now, I can take any kind of music in small doses but when something is blared every-fucking-day at 9-million decibels, "the logical song" begins to sound like a screech monkey with his nuts caught in a rusty lawn mower to me. After the 4th day of tortue-by-Supertramp, I politely asked them if we could play something else after lunch. Of course, they thought that I was outnumbered and I could do nothing about it, so they put it in anyways. Not only that, they turned it up extra loud just to piss me off, giggling like schoolgirls all the way.

You don't want to piss off the only guy with access to the stereo while you are working.

I waited until we were partway into our next string while they were busy on the other side of the boat, then I walked in, calmly popped the tape out (they assumed that I was just turning the stereo down), walked back out on deck and THREW IT AS FAR AS IT WOULD FUCKING GO out into the ocean!! You should have seen their faces, they went from amusement when they first put the tape in to irk me... to bewilderment while watching me carry the tape out on deck... to astonishment as they watched it sail over the horizon. They just looked at me with a strange look, then turned back to what they were doing and nothing more was ever said about it.

I didn't have any other "radio problems" after that.

--------------------------

When we get to the first string, we all take up our positions...

...Now, this is just how one boat does it. While all boats have basically the same setup, there are many different ways to work a boat and every boat has its own system. This was ours...

One person is standing at the back of the boat, one is directly amidships in case the captain misses his mark and he has to grab the buoy, and the captain is at the hauling station approximately 2/3 of the way up the port side. As we pull up to the Hi-Flyer and poly-ball that marks one end of the string, the captain gaffs the buoy, unties it and slides it back to the man amidships who then slides it down the rail to the man at the stern.

The reason that we have to do it this way is that the boat is not completely open along the rails. There is part of the overhead that comes down and attaches to the rail between the captain and the man amidships while the net pen (basically a giant wooden box that goes from rail to rail and is 6-feet tall) stands between the man amidships and the man on the stern.

The man on the stern puts the Hi-flyer in a customized rack and waits as the man amidships hops up into the net pen. While the captain starts to haul the endline (the rope that connects the hi-flyers to the nets), the man on the stern reattaches the rope to the hi-flyer and hangs the poly-ball on a post. We then wrap the line from the poly-ball around the hi-flyer and then hang the ball outside the boat. The weight, and more importantly, the shape of the ball keep the hi-flyer from flopping around in its holder and snapping off in bigs seas or when ice builds up on them in the winter.

While hauling the endline, not too much is going on. Its a good time to get caught up on some things that you may have forgotten to do and to suck down the beverage of your choice until the net starts coming up.

to be continued....

next entry, hauling the nets and (hopefully) catching some fish

Hake

2005-06-11T17:17:00.000-04:00

Here are some pictures of the fish that we catch.

Don't ask me who the people are because I only know one of them. I took them all from a friend of mine's web site. He owns a party boat in Maine.

This is a blue hake. Sometimes called red hake or something else, I forget. They are our bread and butter in late winter, early spring. Their heads (one of the rare fish that we have to take the heads off) make excellent lobster bait.

I just thought that I'd throw that in there.

Wolf Fish

2005-06-11T17:15:00.005-04:00

This is a wolffish or an ocean catfish. The baddest of the bad.

They eat mostly shellfish and have been known to chomp on the occassional rock or two. They have huge fang-like teeth in the front that wear down with use from crushing all of those lobsters and crabs. As you can see from this picture, this one hasn't been eating very well. Also, the whole roof of their mouth is one giant plate of molars that will crush anything in their path(s)....including the odd finger or wrist. I have seen a 15 pounder turn a 2-inch closet pole into splinters with one bite, so I learned early on not to fuck with them.

For some reason, people say that they are a "Poor Man's Lobster" when cooked right. I think that they taste like "Poor Man's Feet".

Redfish

2005-06-11T17:15:00.004-04:00

This is a redfish or ocean perch. They used to be the bread and butter of the huge dragger fleets that used to work out of large ports like Portland, Maine and Gloucester, Mass.

You can see that they are covered with spines and many a man has had to be air-lifted off of a boat within a day or two after having been poked by one of these guys. The fins have some sort of poison on them that can kill you if not treated.

They are a huge pain in the ass to get out of gillnets because they are so small (the one pictured is HUGE) and they are covered in spines. But damn, are they good. We used to fillet them up between strings of gear, microwave them and have sandwiches.

Good stuff.

Monkfish

2005-06-11T17:15:00.003-04:00

Ah, monkfish (part of the anglerfish family). These were my bread and butter for some time.

These were originally considered a trash fish for years until around the early 90's when a foreign market opened up for them and they then became a prized catch. The Japanese eat them whole, stuff the stomach, and serve them on a platter of rice. The tail (from just behind the wing-like fins back) is where 95% of the meat...and damn is it good. This is one of the firmest, best testing fish that you will ever eat.

The way that we catch them is to set special nets that have pieces of twine tieing the floatline closer to the leadline creating a bag for them to swim into. The mesh size used in the gillnets is much, much bigger on Monk-nets (12-14") to compensate for the large head, than the normal 6". They also move very little, so you only haul the nets once to twice a week instead of the normal daily haulings that you would do for other species.

It is said that when they lunge up to eat a fish after it has been attracted by the fleshy barb hanging from its head, that a camera can't record it because it is so fast. I don't know if it is true but I have had them lunge at me and they had my hand in their mouth before I knew what had happened.

Speaking of that, their teeth are exactly like needles...and their are hundreds of them. They even have a patch of teeth in their throat that pulls fish down their throat. A pretty amazing fish.

Cusk

2005-06-11T17:15:00.002-04:00

These things suck. They dull a knife with their leather-like skin. They get the bends so bad that you can't even hold them because they are so blown up with air. And they are ugly.

The one good thing about them is that they eat well. Great chowder fish.

Incidentally, the Codfather had landed two world record cusk one time while out on a party boat. All that was left to confirm it was that they were weighed on land on an official scale.

The crewmembers filleted them on the way home.

Now I know where I got my luck from.

Pollock

2005-06-11T17:15:00.001-04:00

Pollock. Our main catch landed (at least in pounds).

This is what you eat most of the time when you eat fishsticks.They school up in giant schools and they fight like hell when hooked.

There isn't much more to say about these. Oh yeah, they probably have the furthest range as far as depth and habitat is concerned. You can catch small ones off the dock and steam out 200 miles and catch small ones. They usually average from 10-20lbs in gillnets. You will get bigger ones, but they bounce off of the smaller mesh sizes most of the time.

We once had a 25,000 pound day on these. To put it in perspective, if you catch 5,000 pounds in a day, you're doing well.

Cod

2005-06-11T17:15:00.000-04:00

Ah....my namsake.

Cod are probably the most written and argued about species in the last 20 years. They built this country. Why do you think that there is a 6-foot wooden Cod hanging from the Massachusettes State House front door?

This is a beauty of around 50lbs caught by Ian Keniston, captain of the Bunny Clark...a party boat out of Ogunquit.

I once caught a Cod by the ass this size with my rod (insert joke here) but my largest is 72lbs.

There is so much info about Cod that is around, I won't bore you with anymore about it. Just remember, if it weren't for Cod, you wouldn't be here.

Haddock

2005-06-11T17:14:00.000-04:00

Haddock, the miracle fish.

It wasn't that long ago (just a few years) that there were severe restrictions on Haddock because the scientists said there were none less. It didn't matter that we said that their data was incorrect. What do we know? We're only drunken fisherman.

Anyways, there are now no limits on Haddock and its a modern success story.

Haddock is yummy....and expensive. That's about all the info that you need about these.

I guarantee that you will never see a bigger one than the one that is being held in this picture. It is the pending all-tackle world record, breaking a very old record from Norway.

My Job (well, it was...)-Part 3

2005-06-10T14:36:00.000-04:00

Let's try and stay on topic today.

We're all loaded up with the necessities and we're on our way out (still).

The captain (Dennis or myself...We'll do Dennis for this trip) would usually take the last watch so he could start making the rounds on the VHF (radio) to see where everyone is fishing. If someone or something is where you would like to go, you have to make a decision as to where to go to next. The worst ones would be when you would have to steam an additional 30 or 40 miles out because some boat(s) were working where you would like to be. Actually, the worst was when you had to turn around and go back in towards a spot that you have already steamed past. Those were frustrating because you could have left the dock quite a bit later, which is always a plus, and the extra steam time was boring because you had already gotten all the sleep that you needed so all that you could do was watch a movie or read a book. That's about it..

Usually, we didn't have anyone sitting on our spots very because we normally fished areas that weren't the traditional spots....and we caught more fish because of it. It was funny, when I first started running the boat, all the other guys tried to be friendly with me to see where I was fishing after getting nowhere with Dennis. After I wasn't giving up any info, then they started to try and push me around. That didn't work out so well for them. I'm not as nice as Dennis. But those will be some stories for another time.

Anyways, we usually got up with about an hour to go before we started setting nets. We'd get up, someone would make coffee and we'd have something quick before breakfast.

Breakfast was never a very elaborate meal because no one wanted to cook first thing in the morning. Even more so, no one wanted to wash dishes at 6am when its 12 degrees with 30 knots of wind and the decks are covered with ice.

After getting jacked up on some caffeine (2 cups of joe for each of the other guys and two Diet Mountain Dews for me....mmm, mmm, good!), we'd reluctantly get skinned up (put our raingear on), stumble and grumble onto deck, and get ready to set the first string of gear.

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Here's the technical part....well, its not very technical but I'll explain some of the equipment and how things work as best that I can.

I worked on a gillnet boat. They are not the drift nets that you hear so much about in thePacific that killes everything high up in the water column. Ours are anchored to the bottom and don't move at all. If they do move at all (say, falling off the edge of some bottom, a dragger gets into them and tows them or if the tide is realy bad) they come up in a giant ball. And that sucks....bad.

BAck to the gillnets. Just picture a chain link fence with poly rope (floating) at the top part of the "fence", with streamlined plastic floats every 5 feet on it. The chain link part of it is essentially fishing line like you would buy woven into diamond shapes of varying sizes, depending on what you were fishing for. I believe the minimum mesh size is 6 1/2" right now. The bottom part of the "fence" is a cotton-nylon-poly weave with a core of lead in it. They take a piece of twine and dunk it in lead (picture a candle wick) and then weave the rope around it. The shit is heavy as hell.

Each net is 50 fathoms long (300') by 1-1 1/2 fathoms tall (6-9 feet). Seeing as how that we were targeting grounfish, anything taller would have you catching more undesirable species. Mostly just the small baitfish that swam a bit off the bottom. They would just be a pain in the ass to get out of the nets and they were of reduced value, so it wasn't worth it.

We would tie the nets into 20-net strings. Each string was approximately one mile long and we would usually fish 5 strings a day. When we would fish out by the Hague Line (the US-Canadian border) we would fish three strings of 33 nets (yeah, yeah...I know... one would be 34 nets, Bface) because the bottom didn't have much structure. You would just be fishing depths. The longer strings made for a shorter day.

EAch string would have a Hi-Fler and a poly ball at the end. The Hi-Flyer had a radar reflector so we could find it at night and in the fog and the poly-ball took the brunt of the tide. It would keep the Hi-Flier from sinking and from us losing our gear. Each string of nets is worth about $6500, so you would like to keep them around.

You can see all the tools of the trade for gillnetting right here. It's all pictures and it's all on one page, so its easy to check out. Incidentally, this is where we bought 90 % of our stuff and its about 2 miles from my house. (why I included that last part about my pad, I'll never know...like anyone cares)

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After stumbling out on deck, we would get ready to set the first string. Now, there are two ways of setting...the total suckbag way, and the way that civilized men do it.

The first way is when you have to stand at the back of the boat and make sure that it goes out ok. What you do to start setting is to throw out the Hi-Flyer and the poly ball, let all of the end line (your rope) go out and when the time is right, start letting the nets go out. You'll have a "setting bar" on the back of the boat that is designed to keep the leadline and floatline apart so you don't have any twists in the gillnet while it is sitting on the bottom. If you have any twists, its that much less net that is fishing.

The setting bar, or "goalposts" as we like to call them, is basically a semi-circle of stainless steel tubing that sits right at the back of the boat. Actually, if you look back at it, it looks like a exactly like a "w" except that the middle parts of the "w" are curved so there is no peak in it.

All the nets are stacked in a giant pen, so when you start setting out, you have to have an 8" piece of PVC pipe suspended in the air over the net pen so nothing gets tangled up. The nets come out of the pen, over the pipe, under your arm and through the setting bar. It sucks to set like that because whatever shit is still in the net, like slime or mud, flies back into your face the whole time that you're setting. Even worse is when there are some jelly-fish in it. I don't know what kinds that we have up here, but it feels just like someone threw acid onto you. Not fun.Not fun at all.

Anyways, we all take turns setting out and it takes about 20 mins to set a string, if you're good at it and up to 30 mins, if you're not

The other, and really the only, way to set is when you have a net flaker on the boat. What a net flaker basically is is a machine that automatically seperates the leadline and the float line while you are hauling the nets. Thus eliminating the need for the setting bar, and more importantly, someone back there. You just throw the Hi-Fler and poly ball over the side, and steam off into the sunset. Its much faster, and safer this way. The part that I dug the best was that I wasn't going to get douched by mud and slime anymore. Good times.

Well, after setting all 5 strings out, we would clean up and find a nice place close to our gear and anchor up for the night.

After our traditional meal of grilled T-bones, with way more side dishes that I can remember, we would usuualy watch a couple of movies and head off to bed. As long as there was no boats trying to screw with our gear during the night, we would sleep fine.

Ocassionally, you would get a dragger towing his nets through there and trying to tear up our nets.Luckily, we have an alarm on our radar that you can set to any distance and when a target shows up in the rings, you are woken up by a loud beep. When you have several boats around you, it can make for a long night.

Well, that'll be it for now. I don't feel like typing anymore.

- Cod

My Job (well, it was...)-Part 2

2005-06-10T00:10:00.000-04:00

Let's see, where did we leave off?

Let me check...Oh yeah. We have ice, fuel and grub and we're headed out.

One more quick note about that....(careful, this is my hippie time)

There is something very optimistic about that first day. Steaming out with a boat load of supplies, it seems like no matter how bad fishing may have been or how miserable that everything might have gone that last trip, you always think that this next trip will be the one. The one that you fill 'er up early. The one where you will make $2500 for a few days work. The one where the weather will be good and nothing will break. The one where the pots and pans won't go cascading onto the carpet after a rather large wave.

It really is kind of odd because I'm not an outwardly optimistic person by nature. By that, I mean that if I am feeling optimistic about something, I will keep it to myself for fear of jinxing it. You may think that is odd, but I have seen many a time where we start catching as ass-load of fish and as soon as someone says, "Wow. We're doing good out of this string." the fish stop coming or something breaks. I swear, it's almost a given. I’m very superstitious when it comes to things like that. As far as fisherman in general go, I’m quite lax when it comes to dumb superstitions. Some of the old timers have more than you can imagine. Here are a few of the superstitions that I have either heard, or subscribe fully to…

Never, and I mean NEVER flip a hatch cover over when you take it off to get to the fish hold/lazerette/engine room etc. It symbolizes the boat capsized and is upside down. (That’s a big one for me)

Never paint your boat blue. I don’t know where that one came from. I worked on a blue boat for three years and….wait, I’m a bad example. Don’t paint your boat blue.

Never whistle. It sounds like high winds whipping through the antennas and will bring a storm within the next day or so.

Never eat a banana. I never knew where or why that originated. I have heard it from people in the middle of the country and read it in magazines. Who knows? That’ll be a good project for you guys. Let me know how you make out.

Never say “pig” on a boat…..ever. They can’t swim and somehow that’s supposed to relate to you. I don’t subscribe to that one…at all. Here's a funny little story about that…

We had a hardcore Mainer (a guy who grew up in downeast Maine, up by Nova Scotia. They are their own breed up there) by the name of “Bob” who worked with us for a couple of years who swore by all of these silly superstitions…none more so than the pig one. He wouldn’t even refer to a pig on land by any other name than “a fuckin’ curly.”

We used to taunt him by saying it all the time while out fishing and he would legitimately get upset. One time after we were done getting ice and loading some grub on the boat, my buddy Billy thought that it would be funny to buy this little pig hand-brush while he was out shopping just to taunt Bob. It even came with it’s own little sty to stay in when it wasn’t being used. It looked kind of like this, except with its mouth closed…and in the sty, of course.

Well, I saw that pig, just knew that Bob would have a fit, so I had to add my two cents to his aggravation. I drew a beard (he had just grown one for the winter) on it, drew a smoke hanging out of its mouth and wrote “Bob” on it in big letters on the side.

This had all gone on while Bob was finishing up doing some maintenance in the fish hold. When he came up, we were all standing there with shit-eating grins on our faces while waiting for him to notice it. Once he saw our faces, he immediately had known that we had done something to him….yet again. He furtively looked around, saw that bearded pig with his name on it and freaked out. I mean he really, positively, absolutely, posilutely flipped. And this guy was normally as mellow as they came, so we knew we had hit a nerve and maybe had gone a little too far this time. Nah….it’s never too far.

He started yelling and screaming about what assholes that we are and lunged for the pig with the intention of throwing it over the side. Luckily, we were able to wrestle him to the deck (it took two of us) and pry it out his angrily clenched fists before “Bob jr.” could go swimming. After we tore it away from him, he immediately stomped down below to his bunk, grabbed his stuff and started chucking all of it onto the pier because he was going to quit right then and there….all because of a pig. I couldn’t believe what was going on. I knew that he was serious about these silly superstitions, but damn.

We eventually calmed him down enough to stay on the boat working with us by promising him that we would take “that fuckin’ curly” off the boat as soon as we got back to the dock. What he didn’t know was that instead of deep-sixing the oinker, we hid it in a cupboard instead.

While on the way out later that night, Billy had put it back in its sty when it was Bob’s turn for watch. The next thing that I know, I hear “those motherfuckers!” and the boat started riding different. Bob was so pissed that he had turned the boat around and had headed back towards home with the intention of quitting. Ole Captain Dennis wasn’t too impressed with that maneuver and told him so. After Dennis put us back on course, Bob had demanded that a Coast Guard cutter be dispatched to come out and get him. Yeah, that would go over well. I could just hear it now…

Us- April Nicole to Coast Guard Station Portsmouth

Them- Coast Guard Station Portsmouth standing by…

Us- Yes, we would like a Coast Guard cutter to come out and pick up one of our crewmembers, please

Them- April Nicole, is your crewmember having a medical emergency?

Us- Um….no Coast Guard….um…he’s afraid of a plastic pig

Them- (10 second delay) uh…April Nicole,…please repeat?

Us- I have a crewmember afraid of a pig and he would like a ride home

Them- (20 second delay) transmitting false emergencies is a federal offense and will result in a $200,000 fine and 5 years in jail

Us- U.S. Coast Guard, April Nicole

Them- April Nicole, go ahead

Us- So, can he get that ride to get away from the pig that is taunting him? He’s quite distressed

Them- April Nicole, please report immediately to Coast Guard Station Portsmouth for drug tests as soon as you are ashore…out

Anyways, Dennis told Bob to stop being a wuss and act his age. We ending up having a successful trip and, good god, did we taunt that poor bastard the whole time.

As far as the pig goes, it was still sitting in its rightful spot when I blew my back out and had to have surgery.

Bob had long since moved back home. Big surprise, eh?

Wow. I ended up way off the beaten path today. Oh well, I’ll continue this later….

- Colin

My Job (well, it was...)-Part 1

2005-06-08T17:30:00.000-04:00

For the lack of something more interesting to write about and with several people having asked me questions of late about what I do (or I did, before I munched my back and had to have surgery...still recovering) for a living, I figured that I would pass along a detailed look at what goes into an average fishing trip. So here goes...

A typical trip would start by 2 or 3 of us getting up around 6am to bring the boat up river to get some ice for the trip. The company that we purchased the ice from was a few miles upriver and when you have a 4-knot current to fight, it can take a long time to get there.

The worst is in the summer when the 2 bridges that we had to go under go from "on demand" to schedules to compensate for the increased boat traffic. The Memorial Bridge lifts on the half-hour and Long Bridge (you can see it raised in the foreground) is on the quarter hour. When you missed one of them, all you could do was hang around for 30 minutes, make sure that you didn't crash into anything and wait for the next opening.

Once we got upriver, hopefully no one was already ahead of us and we would pull right in under the ice hose. Since I was in charge of all things related to the fish, I would have to don raingear and hop on down into the fish-hold. Depending on which boat that we currently using, we would take anywhere from 3-6 tons of ice.

They used a hose that was supposed to be flexible, but never was, to pump the ice from the building into the boat. That usually took the better part of an hour, depending on how fast that the ice-dude was willing to crank up the machine. The one problem with going fast was that the hose would thrash all about and knock you on your ass. I've had it buck so hard that it has broken bones and caused concussions. Sometimes just for fun I would pretend to lose control of the hose and pin my buddy Billy up against the fish hold wall. The ice came out dso fast that it felt like being pelted with little marbles. He would thrash around screaming while his raingear and boots filled up with ice and I would laugh and laugh. It was fun for one and all.

The worst thing that happened while icing up was when they had an ammonia leak (they use it in the process of freezing the ice), the fumes were pumped through the hose and it filled up the fish hold. Man oh man oh man....talk about a burn. I should have gone to the hospital, but I didn't have insurance at the time and all that they were going to do was give me a breathing treatment to soothe my burning lungs anyways. Good times.

I'm getting sidetracked here. Moving on...

While we would be pumping ice into the boat, one guy would be out food shopping. If we were headed out for a normal trip of 5-7 days, we would usually spend around $300 or so.

The reason that we spent so much for only a few days was that there are only two things to look forward to every day on a boat...eating and sleeping. While the weather usually dictated the quality of sleeping, we could control what we ate.

The traditional first meal of every trip was always freshly cut inch and a quarter T-bones. Some other meals that we would also have was some sort of roast, a chicken or turkey, some fish that we caught with a lobster or crab stuffing and invariably one of the quick meals that we had on standby for those nights when we would get done late like chicken pot pies or some sort of pasta. We would always have a full compliment of snacks and ice cream with everyone getting their favorites of each.

The best thing about working on the boat was that no matter how much fattening food that you ate, you would always lose weight. The bad part was that you usually carried those eating habits over to home and gained weight by the hour.

Anyways, after getting ice and loading groceries (we always refueled the day that we got home from the previous fishing trip) we would be back to the pier and tied up by 10am. The rest of the day was usually used up by spending as much time as possible with family and doing laundry for the trip. I would always pack 7-9 sets of everything plus 3-5 sweatshirts and various other crap like movies and books. Needless to say, my bag was huge and it weighed a ton. (hmmm, that isn't the first time that I have said that, now is it?)

We would usually leave the dock between midnight and 3am depending on where that we were headed. The spots that we frequented were anywhere from 45 miles and 135 miles. When you're on a 9 knot boat, it takes quite a while to get there. We all took even turns at the wheel and usually slept the rest of the time. While on watch (driving the boat) it was nice because we had a Windows program that interfaced the GPS, the auto pilot and the computer together and it essentially drove itself.

Your watch could get quite boring and sometimes it was a struggle to stay awake, especially if it was on the way in after a huge day. I fell asleep once for 6 minutes when I first started out and got so scared to death that it never happened again. I didn't want to end up like my friends on the Heather Lynne 2. God, I remember listening to that go down only a few miles away from us like it were yesterday. If it weren't for one guy not showing up on the boat that I was filling-in on, I would have ended up on the Heather Lynne. Hutch, the captain, had called and asked my new boss (Dennis) if I was still available one week before they had their accident. Thankfully, Dennis had hired me that very morning. Oops, getting off course again....

That's it for now and I'll continue this riveting entry later. It gets more interesting from here....well, at least I think that it does, bear with me and try to control your enthusiasm.

to be continued....

Overflow of the Brain

2005-06-07T01:40:00.000-04:00

Was Terry Francona dropped on his head during this offseason? Bellhorn batting leadoff? I don’t care if it’s for only one game.There is no excuse for that.

I was just flipping around the TV channels, came upon the “100 Greatest Americans” show on the Discovery Channel, saw a picture of Hillary Clinton, immediately checked my calendar to see if it was April 1st, saw that it wasn’t, kept on flipping.

Mental note: sunblock isn’t for wusses anymore

This not-drinking thing isn’t so bad. You just have to huff more spray paint, that’s all.

Good god! Mrs. Cod just came down with some white shit all over her face andscared the crap out of me. I thought that I had wandered into aMom’s-for-Mime’s meeting.

I signed up to be an organ donor the last time that I renewed my driver’s license. Shouldn’t I have an asterisk next to my name? It could state that it would be a waste of time and money to go rooting around inside of me. It’s not like they are going to find something useful, anyways.

Bface and I once shot Wheel Gun Bob’s jacket with a shotgun,a .44 magnum and a .40 caliber Glock….just ‘cause. Bob didn’t pull a single trigger just so he could honestly tell the wife that he didn’t do anything to it.
“It must have been those damn moths.” Yeah…if they were six feet wide with teeth like Billy. (Yes, I know…..only 4 people will get that joke)

If it ever got out that some cultures in Japan have the men sew a half-marble into the tip of their schlong's so that the women receive maximum pleasure while having sex, there would be a mass exodus of women from this country.

While tuna fishing a while back with two friends, we hooked 4 Blue Sharks at once. Then within minutes, a giant tuna took the fifth line. With only three guys on the boat to tend to them, we definitely had our hands full.
Now understand, these were hand-lines so that when a fish took one you had to grab it immediately or it would empty the basket.
We had one guy on the bow fighting a shark yelling to me, my other buddy was wrestling with a monster (close to 300lb) Blue Shark next to me on the stern and I was yarning in two at once. Then right next to me, I hear a “POW” (we tie the lines off to the boat with 200lb test twine and when a fish breaks it, it sounds like a gunshot) and the line starts going out so fast that it arcs up over my head.
I immediately thought to myself, “That’s no shark” and tied off my two sharks pretty quick, grabbed the line with the tuna on it and off we went.
To make a long story short, after some serious tangles we finally got the bastard in and it was, by far, THE prettiest tuna that I had ever caught. It had some beautiful colors to it but I think that the $27.00 a pound that we got for it helped a little bit in that assessment. Also, catching a fish that brings you just shy of $9,000 for a days work makes re-rigging all of the lines a lot less painful.

I want to be Clint Eastwood when I grow up.

I just saw that Valtrex ad for the umpteenth time tonight where some chick is talking about her, ugh, herpes “outbreaks”. Can we please pass a law limiting all tampon, yeast infection and herpes ads to the Lifetime Channel? Would anyone be against this? I’d be willing to compromise and limita ll of those limp-dick ads to ESPN. I think that we could take a giant step towards creating world peace by doing this.

For the most part, I was one of those guys who didn’t do stupid shit for women back when I was dating. Whenever they started trying to get me to do stuff or started acting all needy and shit, I’d tell them to hit the road. But….and that is a big “but” (yeah, yeah, insert joke here), God is getting me back by bringing Emmy-Cod into my life. I do more stupid, emasculating things in a week for and with her than I have done in my entire life. And you know what? I don’t care. I love every minute of it.

I just talked to the Codfather who was on his way home from a fishing trip in Maine. He caught 5 fishing 4 days, only one of which was a keeper and it wasn’t even the species that he was gunning for. One day, he also shorted out his brand new $40,000 pickup truck while jumpstarting the boat whose battery had died after they left the emergency bilge pump running the day before when it was needed because they had forgotten to put the drain-plug in the boat and almost sunk within walking distance of land. Is there any doubt at all about the identity of my biological father?

Several years ago, Mrs. Cod, Billy (our roommate at the time), his girlfriend “Chocolate Thunder” (she had thighs like Daryl Dawkins) and I were all sitting on our couch and watching a movie when we heard a muffled cry coming from the kitchen. After hitting mute, hearing nothing further, we went back to watching our flick.
There it was again! Another muffled cry. What the hell could that be? Hey, has anyone seen Son of Cod? Son of Cod?
More muffled cries coming from somewhere. I’ll check later, this movie is getting good and I just got my blanket tucked in around me just the way I like it.
Well, not knowing must have been too much to bear for Mrs. Cod because she sprang off the couch and went into full “Mom-mode.”
Seeing as how she was 7 months pregnant at the time, using any adjective besides “waddled” to describe how she was doing something shows that she thought it to be a fairly urgent situation.
After what seemed like seconds to me, and was probably minutes, she burst out into laughter from some other room, but quickly muffled it and came loping back into the living room….or so she tells me, I was watching the movie and couldn’t be bothered.
Some time later, I noticed a repetitive and irritating noise coming from somewhere else in the house. Oops! The irritating noise was just Mrs. Cod trying to get my attention.
Apparently, she is fluent in sign language because I could see her gesturing and moving her lips, but I couldn’t hear her voice. Right about now would be a good time to turn down the tv and see what is going on.
Wait until you see Son of Cod. It’s hysterical.
(realizing that I'm not in trouble, I go back to "husband mode) Yeah, that’s great. Can I start the movie now? (More cries)
I then immediately heard a bunch of banging and crashing coming from the kitchen. I looked at Mrs.Cod, saw a smirk on her face and called out to Son of Cod and told him to “comehere.” Now the banging and crashing was getting closer.
By now, we were all looking towards the hallway with intense curiosity waiting to see what was upsetting the boy. None of us got up, but hell, I had stopped the movie. What more do you want me to do? The wife and I already had a replacement for him on order. (I was busy clearing a space on the mantle for my “Father of the Year” trophy anyways, and I couldn’t be bothered)
Well, he eventually came stumbling around the corner into the hallway where I could finally see him and I immediately saw what was ailing the poor lad. He had somehow gotten an empty 12 pack container of diet coke stuck on his head….and it was damn funny!
Of course, we all immediately burst into laughter, which didn’t help the matter one bit. He was crying and bouncing off each wall like when after a Christmas party, Wheel Gun Bob thought that his neighbor’s “Santa and his Reindeer” display was “all you could mate.” You should have seen how they wrote that one up in the Police Log.
He was stumbling down the hall and grabbing at his box-encased-head with both hands while simultaneously bouncing from wall-to-wall and crying. All you could see was a boy’s body with a box of diet coke for a head. (Thank god that he got his mother’s looks or I would have had to kept the box on)
Well, after making him stumble the last few steps purely for comedy sake, I intentionally stuck out my foot so he would trip over it, I could safely catch him and I could release him from his cardboard prison before he whacked his head on something and hurt more than his 5 year old pride.
After prying the box off of his head, he made it perfectly clear that he didn’t appreciate our actions…or lack thereof. I don't know what he was so upset about. There was no emergency room visit and when you have kids, that’s what you have to base success and/or failure on.

Now, is there any doubt as to who his biological father is?

- Cod

ps- A contest is now underway for the best example of Wheel Gun Bob's police log entry for that fateful night's escapades...please use the "comments" section to submit your entry.... The lucky winner will win an 8'10" autographed photo of the incident while in progress (courtesy of Portsmouth Police Department)

The Cod God Be Sicketh-Part 4

2005-06-02T01:22:00.000-04:00

This is the last installation of The Cod God Be Sicketh. It’s a bit long, but bear with me.

Monday 5/23 The Light at the end of the tunnel

Today started off kind of sucky. Last night they put my morphine on an automatic drip so I wouldn’t have to wake up in pain, press my button a few times and then go back to sleep. It was a sound theory but the result was me waking up feeling like shit. I was dizzy, had a headache and just generally felt like terrible all over almost like I had the flu. It took almost 3 hours to snap out of it and start feeling up to my normal level of shitty-ness. Mental note: we won’t be doing that again tonight.

The day did begin to look up when my new doctor (my doctor’s office rotates who does rounds every week) came in. I had known her for some time stemming back to one time when my daughter was ill and she was the attending physician at the hospital and I was impressed with her. Her only drawback was that she looked like a giant hippie scarecrow.

She came in bearing good news. If, and that’s a big if, I could tolerate a more advanced liquid diet today I could try real food tomorrow and then possibly go home.

Hey, I was all for it. Bring on the shitty soup and some disgusting plain cream of wheat! Yeehaw! It sounds like filet mignon to me right about now.

Just so you know, this is what my food consisted of this day…

Breakfast- chicken broth, lime jello and coffee….the only problem(s) being that I don’t drink coffee and I can’t stand lime jello, so it was one steamy cup of salty water that smelled like sweat (insert joke here)

Lunch- I got to order this one from a special and boy, did I go all out! More salty chicken sperm water, surprisingly tasty chocolate pudding and an Italian Ice….I bet this is how Trump eats

Dinner- Boy-oh-boy was I going all out on this one!…cream of chicken soup, cream of wheat, more pudding and two 8oz diet cokes…well, diet shasta’s..nothing but the finest for me, don’t you know

After surviving that assault on my taste buds and barring an unforeseen disaster like Friday’s escapades, I should be pissing and moaning from my own bed at this time tomorrow.

You can almost see the excitement building on Missy’s face…or maybe it’s horror. I think I just saw her slip the doc a fifty-spot to keep me in for a few more days, but I can’t be too sure.

Well, time to go off to bed and get one more day closer to breaking out of this joint.

Tuesday 5/24 Freedom!

Today may be the day, baby.

After a restless night of sleep despite 10mg of Ambien, some Atavan and copious amounts of morphine, I awoke at first light. (Ok, I lied about the morphine. At this point I was trying to use as little as possible so it wouldn’t look like I needed it for pain. I didn’t want to give them any excuse to keep me around any longer than absolutely necessary. I actually had a 12-hour stretch without using any at all, so that was good.) Unfortunately, first light was around 4:30am and the cafeteria didn’t open until 7am.

After unsuccessfully trying to trade some of my unused morphine for a donut, it quickly dawned upon me that I wasn’t as special as had they led me to believe. I was actually going to have to wait until 7am like everyone else! What gives? I’m special, dammit! My mommy told me so. So what if it’s the little-yellow-school-bus kind of special? When you’ve lived my life, you have to take whatever you can get.

Anyways, I had to sit back, relax and wait for the bewitching hour. Unfortunately, the hours between 4 and 6am are the worst couple hours of TV programming known to man. After sitting there and flipping through the channels a few times, I came to the conclusion that I wasn’t going to be getting very much relief by continuing to do so. So, I shut the TV off and sat there staring at the clock for what seemed like hours (it was actually more like 3 minutes).

Speaking of time dragging, I swear that they must slow down all of the clocks in hospitals. Well, at least this hospital that I am being held prisoner in. 90% of my stay consisted of suffering through seconds that seemed like minutes and minutes that seemed like hours. Whether it was while waiting for pain relief, some food, or waiting for my jackass doctors to come in, it all crawled along like Doug Mirabelli trying to leg out an infield hit.

Anyways, I waited with baited breath (and morning breath) for the magic clock on the wall to strike 7am so I could order up some slop, scarf it down and bounce on up outta here, yo.

Around 6:30, I dug up the menu from under the pile of shit that had accumulated on my nightstand beside the bed. Now, being the graceful ballerina-type that I am, I immediately

knocked everything all over the place (including the phone) and woke up all of the old bastards within a 100-foot radius. I almost felt bad there for a minute, but then I figured that they had kept me up by snuffling and snorting all week and were due some retribution. All’s fair in love and tipping shit over in hospitals, right?

Back to breakfast…

After some deep meditation, soul-searching, and listening to what my heart was telling me…

(retch)…

(gag)...

(barf)…

Heh. I almost got through some of that weird new age; touchy-feely crap for a joke but even in jest my stomach couldn’t take it.

What really happened was that I had chosen a cinnamon and raisin bagel because it was easy on the stomach and I didn’t want to have any complications like the infamous “scrambled eggs incident” of ’05. Not only that, but the doctor had said that the sooner that I ate something while having no complications, the sooner that I could hightail it out of this hellhole….and I was all for that.

When the bagel arrived, I jumped on that bastard like David Wells on a greasy pork chop. It was dry, slightly burned, and tough as hell. At one point I thought that it must be some sort of misplaced medical waste or that a janitor must have lost his rag mop and it had found its way onto my plate.

Anyways, I sucked it up, powered my way through that culinary disaster and sat back waiting for the warden to process my parole papers.

To my surprise, she loped in (the new doc is a biggun) a little bit before 9am. After a few quick words, she gave me the green light to take off…after she processed some papers. There’s always a catch.

After she galloped off to (presumably) process my papers, I eagerly phoned Mrs. Cod at The Cod Estates to have her send the chauffeur over to pick me up. But to my surprise…no answer.

I don’t think that Mrs. Cod had properly thought this through. She knew that I was getting paroled today, but she wasn’t answering the phone. You don’t mess with a man’s freedom, dammit!

I called back.

Still, no answer.

I was getting a bit perturbed at this point. I may have mumbled something to the effect of being slightly disappointed that she wasn’t answering the telephone. Some people two floors down claim that they may have heard a colorful word or two emanating from my room, but I think that they had me confused with some other raving lunatic in a Red Sox hat.

Third call….jackpot!

Apparently, Mrs. Cod was enjoying a leisurely nap along with Emmy-Cod. Well, I call it a nap, she calls it sleeping.

Anyways, I passed along the good news that I was getting out and asked her to hustle her butt over to the hospital as quickly as possible. She asked what the rush was (what the rush was? You spend as much time as I have spent in the hospital over the course of my life and you’ll understand why I hate them so much and can’t wait until the moment that I can leave from the second that I step into one) and I said that it was because the doctor had already left to do my paperwork and she just had to be almost done. She agreed, we hung up and I started to get ready. I got dressed while a nurse had to ask me yet more questions and fill out even more paperwork…

Sign here. Initial this. Hop on one leg. Stand on your head. Who was the 1^st player to hit 40hr and steal 40 bases? What color belt should you wear with a blue suit?

While I was finishing up that nonsense (it was Jose Canseco, by the way) Mrs. and Ms Cod came rolling in to drag my sorry ass home. I was ready to go, but still no doc. With nothing else to do but wait, Mrs. Cod wandered off to get a coffee and Ms Cod got comfortable with me and watched some TV…for a while.

Now, I had mentioned earlier how time goes slow in this hospital, but damn….it was much worse this time. I was sans all IV’s and hospital garb while just sitting there looking at the clock every 3 seconds. Every poor nurse that wandered by my now-untethered ass was unceremoniously interrogated as to the whereabouts of my Big Bird-like doctor…

Me- (to some chick walking by) Hey, where the hell are my papers and/or doctor?

Nurse- (looking confused) um…what?

Me- have you seen my doctor?

Nurse- uh, I’m not sure

Me- what do you mean you’re not sure?!?

Nurse- (looking for security) I’m not sure, I don't work on this floor

Me- (all huffy and puffy) well, do you think that you could find her?

Nurse- Sir, please, I’m just visiting a friend right now

Me- So? You are a nurse, aren’t you?

Nurse- Sir, I’m just passing through

Me- Well, I’ve been waiting for…HEY! Come back here!!

Well, maybe I didn’t say all those things and I wasn’t that much of a dick, but it sure would have felt nice. I know, I’m getting soft in my old age. (no, not in that way Bob…they have a magic little pill for that now)

Ole Doc-Sea biscuit came trotting in at 11am, a tidy two hours after she went off to fill out my paperwork. Someone must have given her a fresh feedbag of oats or a nice carrot to chew on and she got distracted for a while.

After grabbing my papers and trying to boogity-boogity-boogity (that’s for you NASCAR fans) my ass out of there, she informs me that she’ll give me the rest of my paperwork after the nutritionist comes in to talk to me about what my diet should be at home. Fuck me, back to the bed and crappy sitcom reruns.

Another half hour passes and the nutritionist wanders in to tell me the keys to a long and happy life. Her pearls of wisdom about what my diet should be (that I just had to wait for) were to stay away from fats and eat lots of fruits and vegetables.

Wow.

The Dali Llama and Ghandi have never spoken more powerful words.

Well, that’s 5 minutes of my life that I’ll never get back.

Mr. Ed then scurried in with the rest of my paperwork and a fistful of prescriptions. The Cod Gal took her cue and went out to pull the car around because it was pouring rain outside and she was parked across the parking lot.

After staring blankly at Mr. Ed trying to get at the peanut butter on the roof of his (her) mouth for a few minutes, I think that I heard those magic words.

Can it be?

Am I really free to go?

I am?

Yeehaw!

Let’s jet, little Ms Cod. We have a car waiting outside.

After hopping on the elevator and half-running outside, I get out there and I can’t see my car. All I see is Mrs. Cod standing in front of a black and white Dodge sedan.

I flash her a quizzical look, then we load up my stuff and drive away in silence.

After several minutes…

Me- What happened to the Cod-mobile. The caddy. Where’s the fuckin’ caddy?

Mrs. Cod- I traded it..

Me-You traded it? You traded the Cod-mobile? For what?

Mrs. Cod- A microphone.

Me-…ok, I can see that.

We then stop in traffic at the Memorial Bridge where a barge is starting to go under and the bridge is going up to make room for it.

Mrs. Cod- You don’t like it?

Me- (slowly turning to look at her) No, I don’t like it.

Mrs. Cod- Ok.

She then shoots out around the car in front of us, floors it and jumps the now-open bridge.

After successfully landing on the other side of the bridge…

Me- It’s got good pick-up.

Actually, Mrs. Cod drove our minivan the few miles home and I stretched out on the couch.

The End.

- Cod

The Cod God Be Sicketh-Part 3

2005-05-31T20:48:00.001-04:00

Saturday 5/21 FINALLY!!

Well, the doc was (surprise, surprise) in bright and early at 7:05 and boy was she cooperative. She actually put me on the morphine pump and everything.

While she was doing that, I had asked if the lack of timely service from the nurses was the result of being terribly busy or what. She informed me that it was “Nothing terrible. Why?”

I mentioned that the night before I had buzzed the nurse’s desk several times only to be ignored and that it took an act of congress just to get one in here for my roommate or myself.

She tersely said “I did not know that” and left the room immediately. She came back a few minutes later and told me that the people at the desk weren’t passing along any of her instructions to the nurses….ever.

Man, she was PISSED!!

I found out later from someone else that she had ripped all the ladies at the desk a new one and threatened to report them if they did it again. She must have looked like a psychotic Chihuahua barking at the neighborhood kids while she did it....all 4'10" and 90lbs of her. It's nice to know, and see, that it was just a lack of communication. Albeit, an important lack, but just a lack.

The whole episode did end up making me feel a little bit better, but I also felt kind of guilty that I had been so pissed off at the doctor the whole time. Then again, it may have just been the continuous flow of narcotics coursing through my veins. Oh well, at least it everything was all straightened out after that.

-----------------------

Another high point of the day was when my nurse surprised me with a ginger ale of a wonderful vintage from her own personal collection. It was fragrant, crisp, and dry with just a hint of L'ouvrier en sueur d'usine. That was followed up with a delightful collection of L'eau gelée de robinet de Portsmouth. It was the absolute pinnacle of fine dining.

The rest of the day ended up being my most comfortable day of the week... and boy did those desk jockeys page those nurses awfully quick whenever someone paged them. It was like someone had reminded them that they are there to help others, not help themselves to the last donut in the break room. I wonder why.

Good times.

Sunday 5/22

Today was probably the most mentally draining day of my stay. Yeah, yeah…I know. It would only take an eyedropper to mentally drain me. Har-fucking-har Bface and Bob.

A few of the reasons that it blew monkeys so bad was…

the day started off by the cafeteria sending up a plate of food for me by accident but the nurse ended up sending it away when it got to the door….talk about the ultimate Cod-tease
I was still physically wiped out from the abortion that was Friday
I only slept two hours
I was still at square one as far as my diet was concerned…ice chips and ginger ale all around! Maybe they’ll bring me the gourmet ice if I ask nicely
The usual doctor didn’t come in today; it was some Doogie Howser looking dude whose mother didn’t know that he was out playing doctor.

and so on…

As far as I-Was-A Teenaged-Doctor was concerned, he came in exuding confidence. I think that when he was looking at some scribbles on a torn envelope produced from his back pocket, furrowed his brow and asked if I was “Hank”, that it became obvious that I was in good hands.

Of course, I thought that he was joking so I replied that “Hank” was at Mass General having a colonoscopy just for fun.

He then started quickly shuffling through his three other torn up envelopes looking really confused.

I really couldn’t believe what I was seeing before me. After watching him squirm for a minute or two, I let him off the hook by suggesting that he take a gander at that thing cleverly disguised as my chart so conveniently located under the big sign that had my name on it. That seemed to help him out a bit.

While we talked about the usual doctor-patient shit, I didn’t end up offering up too much in the way off information. I wanted to see if he could actually read. Luckily, he could.

While all this way going on, a quick thought of the former Washington Redskins could’ve-been-great defensive end, Dexter Manley went though my head (yeah, I know…it went though my head because there was nothing to stop it). He went through 4 years of college and couldn’t even read! I was really hoping that lightning hadn’t struck twice.

Anyways, after Doogie went away to lament over life’s biggest mysteries like how those little bubbles get in those cans of soda and why is it “I before E except after C?”, everything settled into a giant bore-fest that continued throughout the rest of the day.

No wife.

No kids.

It was Sunday morning so there was nothing on TV except for those holy-roller shows.

The nurse was so ugly that there was no point in calling her just to watch her handle my pee on my demand.

The new roommate was snoozing….and snoring. Speaking of him, when he stumbled in the day before I thought that he looked familiar. After seeing him a couple of more times I realized from where that I knew him from. He was an ex-fisherman who still hung around the pier on occasion to visit his friends. Not only that, but his wife ended up being one of my eldest son’s teachers. It’s a small world, I guess.

Eventually, the day took a giant turn for the better. I was sitting there daydreaming about blondes and Benelli’s when the one and only Wheel Gun Bob and his roommate came stumbling in reeking of old whiskey, cheap perfume and fresh mimosa’s.

At first I was a bit disappointed that he didn’t bring me any guns or porn, but he did bring me the one thing that could use to access both at once.

A laptop computer!

Oh, lucky day!

Seriously, I was psyched to get it. I only wish that one of us had thought about it earlier in my stay, but oh well. Better late than never, right? (as a young buck, I almost had that phrase tattooed on my back…it became my mantra, always while waiting for my various lady-friends' menstrual cycle to begin)

After a chat about the usual stuff (guns and women…where they are and why aren’t we holding one right at this moment? ), Wheel Gun Bob and his roommate headed off for the Late-Risers Brunch at the local Guns n’ Gash club.

That having occurred, I sat back for the rest of the day and watched some TV doped-up on morphine and thanked god that I was one day closer to death.

Next post....

Part 4-Things are looking up!

The Cod God be Sicketh- Part 2

2005-05-28T21:53:00.000-04:00

Wednesday 5/20

Let the misery commence….

My day begins by waking up with severe pain and having to ring my buzzer three times over the course of an hour just to get a shot of morphine. The last time that I was in this hospital for the same problem they immediately hooked me up to one of those pumps that let you shoot yourself up every so often. For some reason, even after I asked, I didn’t get one this time around. Man, I would kill for one of those now.

After listening to Mr. I’m-A-Famous-Artist for half OF the day they find, and move me to, a more appropriate room. Unfortunately, this one isn’t a private room either and I’m amongst all the old bastards that are on their way out. All of a sudden, a few days in the hospital don’t seem so bad.

My new roommate is as older guy named Don who ends up being in here for the same thing as me. He’s been fighting his for 22 years, though. Apparently he went on a straight-vodka bender that landed him in the hospital for the 3^rd time in 3 months. Hell, even back when I could drink a lot I couldn’t have done that. I probably would have keeled over after the 2^nd day.

Don has been in at least 40 times in his life and this is the first time that he ever admitted drinking to the doctor. Jesus, and I thought that I was dumb.

Anyways, he was totally cool and we got along great.

This day sucked….bad. I could only eat ice chips and the nurses took their sweet fucking time giving me a shot. If any of you have ever been in severe pain, every minute seems like an hour. I was ready to take the big plunge but I would have had to climb over Don and that would have made for an awkward moment or two. I make it a rule to not get into a strange man’s bed until he has at least bought me a drink….or asked me nicely.

That’s about all there is to report for this day. Lots of TV, lots of pain and lots of lying in bed.

Thursday 5/19

Today started out ok.

I woke up after the first decent night of sleep that I have had in some time to a surprisingly reduced amount of pain. Of course, I immediately began dreaming of going home in the next day or so….and cheeseburgers. Nothing to do but sit and wait.

After my doctor leisurely rolled in around 11-fucking-30, she decided that I could actually try eating more than ice chips. I could have some liquid!!

Oh yeah, good times. If I’m REALLY lucky I may be able to have some cream of chicken soup tonight.

Oh, lucky day

One thing that is not only concerning me, but the wife as well is that she hasn’t called in a specialist to check me out yet. The last time that I came in for pancreatitis I had two gastroenteroligists trying to fix me (an impossible task) to go along with my regular doctor. Maybe she knows more than she’s letting on. After all, her grandfather is C. Everett Coop. Anyone who is related to a guy who sported a kickass whaler’s beard must know something. Right?

After a lovely lunch of chicken broth and red jello, I was feeling so pumped up I did a half a sit-up in bed.

One thing that is becoming more and more of a problem is that it is taking the nurses longer and longer to bring me anything. I know that they are busy and all, but jesus, it took an hour on two consecutive occasions to get their ass in my room. We’ll just have to see what happens tonight.

Wow. Another filling dinner of broth, jello and an Italian Ice. I’m living large, Yo.

A quick aside…. after lying in bed while watching TV and starving to death I have come to the conclusion that the reason that us Americans are so fat is that every other ad on TV is for food. Pay attention to the amount of ads some time, it’s ridiculous. My fat ass would’ve never noticed if I weren’t watching the Food Channel with a fervor usually reserved for the local pervert at an All-You-Can-See peepshow.

Well, we’ll see how I feel tomorrow when I wake up. I might actually be able to ingest something that involves the use of a utensil….not that I use them.

Friday 5/20- The Wrath of Missy

I woke up today all wound up and ready to go. I wasn’t very sore and the Dr actually rolled her ass out of bed before noontime to let me know that I can try and eat something real today! Immediately I heard a bell ringing and some fat, drunk guy with a dirty apron sticking his head around a covered wagon and screaming “COME AND GET IT!!!”

I perused that menu with as much gusto as Bill Clinton cruising for heifers after the local Weight Watchers meeting gets out. After about .6 seconds of deliberations, I ordered the first thing that I saw. Scrambled eggs, toast and orange juice were the choice.

It was like Christmas and my birthday all rolled into one!

After gobbling down the best damn eggs ever, I sat back for a while feeling quite happy and content. Hell, after going 5 days without food and then being allowed to eat some, it’s better than sex. (sorry Missy, but it is)

Then the pain hit.

It started off innocently enough with just a twinge or two of pain about an hour or so after I finished the best damn eggs ever. At first, I thought that it was just my stomach adjusting to having something solid in it for the first time in a while.

But, I was wrong.

It became worse and worse and the afternoon went on. Of course, (I'm assuming) the sadistic nurses thought that I was exaggerating and hamming it up a bit just to get some more drugs. Obviously they had never been through this type of pain before, because if you had, you’d be one sympathetic bastard. I know that I would be. And don't give me any of that feministic "giving birth is the worst pain ever...blah blah blah" crap. If it was that bad, there wouldn't be anyone with more than one child in this world. Now shut up, get back in the kitchen and cook me something. You'll get your reward later....if you're lucky.

After my usual shot didn’t touch the pain at all, I finally convinced the fat-bitch nurse to call the doc. About an hour later the nurse came in and informed me that doctor feel-bad had okayed a “one-time” additional dose of morphine. After getting shot up, I knew that I was in trouble when that didn’t work at all. Unfortunately, no one except the wife believed that I was still in so much pain.

Now, I had asked for a “on-demand” pain medication pump when I first got in there but ole Doc-Ignore-Whatever-My-Patient-Says shit on that idea from the get go. Now I was paying the price.

After those rocket scientists watched me flopping around like a epileptic mackerel, they came to the conclusion that I may be “in a bit of discomfort.”

Yeah.

Discomfort.

That’s it.

Listen nursie…let me show you the kind of “discomfort” that I am in. I’ll run your boobs through a wood planer four or five times. That ought to do it, you moron.

Hell, at that point I would have gladly spanked it with a fistful of thumbtacks while bathing in a tub full of vinegar than to be going through what I was.

Discomfort. Hmmph.

Anyways, after they tracked down super-doc and explained my “discomfort” to her, she “allowed” me another shot. Luckily, that one put enough of a damper on the pain to keep me from ending it all by doing a double-gainer with a half-twist out of my window. Still, she still didn’t ok the pump. What do I have to do? Have my pancreas burst through my chest like “The Thing” and latch onto her face?

The wife had gone home at this point but had called in a little later on just to check in and see how I was doing. After she heard what had gone down, she wasn’t very impressed with anyone at the hospital. It was like they were ignoring what I was saying and acting like they were doing me a favor just to come into my room. Actually, they probably were. I can just imagine how hard it must be to stop eating after you’ve waddled your fat ass to the horse trough to chomp on some pig-slop. Hell, my nurse would waddle in like her table scraps were only on her 2^nd stomach at the time and she needed some more time so it could finish digesting in her 4^th stomach.

Anyways, the wife finally had enough of getting the runaround from everyone and decided to call the doctor’s office herself to see if another doc was on call….preferably ours. What she got was forwarded to another hospital in the area. Apparently, the hospital has some sort of call-in service where they can determine if you need emergency help or whatnot. Well, Missy mentioned what was going on up here and the nurse there was just incredulous. The nurse said that she would immediately call the doc herself and let her know what was going on.

Now, just for the record, I’m not comfortable going over anyone’s head like that but the wife knew that I was hurting and with her wanting to be the only woman to cause me excruciating pain in my life, she was having none of it.

Surprisingly (not!), 10 minutes after she hung up there was a “physician call” for my nurse. 5 minutes after that the nurse in my room tending to my every need. Well, not every need (unfortunately) but you get the picture.

The rest of the night went fairly smooth through a morphine glow with the exception of one hour and a half stretch where I couldn’t get anyone to come in to my room. Not only for me, but my roommate was having some kind of breathing fit as well and I had to flag a nurse down as she wandered by so he wouldn’t drop dead right next to me. Not exactly the best service that I have ever encountered.

Part 3 will be coming on Monday night or Tuesday morning...

The Cod God be Sicketh- Part 1

2005-05-26T17:10:00.000-04:00

[This is some of what transpired while I was at the hospital. It won't be terribly funny or written very well. Some of the details are missing/forgotten Just thought that I'd warn you.]

Hello all my little Cod and Coddette’s. I start writing to you today from the cozy confines of a bed located on the 4th floor of Portsmouth Hospital. I’ve been hanging out here since Monday (or was it Tuesday?) afternoon…mostly for the drugs.

Sorry to disappoint all you ladies (and Bob) but I’m not in here for a penile extension or a breast reduction. Just plain old pancreatitis.

Well, I shouldn’t say “plain old” because it hurts like a motherfucker!! Unfortunately, I shouldn’t even be here, but I learn slowly and I’m very stubborn. I’ll give you guys a day-by-day breakdown of what it’s been like this time (I had it last summer as well…much, much worse) and you can see how much fun that I am having.

Monday Night 5/16

I had my usual two drinks and later that night barfed twice. Not the normal course of events.

Here are some random thoughts that occurred to me over the course of the evening…
“I hope that this is the flu”
“Why am I so damn good looking?”
“This can't be a good thing.”
“My uncle has luscious breasts, even if they are a little saggy.”
"Were those my shoes?"

You get the picture….

Tuesday 5/17

I woke up with a little stomachache, but nothing that concerned me very much. Then it got a bit worse. And worse. Then I got sick at 1 in the afternoon and I knew that I was screwed.

So, off to the emergency room.

Luckily, there was no one there ahead of me so they took me in immediately. After the usual questions from the nurse and several disapproving looks after admitting that I was in the hospital for the same thing last year, they took me in.

After waiting for what seemed like an eternity, some lackey came in, hit me with some pain meds and took some blood. After laying there for a couple of hours while rotating between self-loathing and anger, the Dr came in and confirmed what I already knew, it pancreatitis again.

Oh joy.

Time to spend a few days hopped up on pain meds and eating nothing but ice chips! Woohoo! Actually, it’s really not as glamorous as it sounds. I know, hard to believe but it’s true.

(F.Y.I.- The way to “fix” pancreatitis is to immediately stop eating or drinking anything stronger than some ice chips so the pancreas can rest and control the pain. That’s about all you can do. It kinda blows. The only thing that makes it worse is when you have a roommate; he gets to eat his 3 meals a day and they have to carry them right past your bed. I’m telling you, they should have used that as torture at Abu-Ghraib instead of putting panties on their head(s) and having dog leashes put around their necks. Hell, that sounds like the average Friday night at my house. Moving on..)

Well, they must had a busy weekend because it took them 5 hours to find me a room and that one ended up being in the surgical recovery wing. Not exactly the place that you want to be when you have a gut problem.

After another long delay, I ended up being shacked up with some dude that was recovering from appendicitis whose favorite sentence was “I had morphine today.”

I don't know why he thought that I would need to hear that over and over, but he did.

It invariably went like this....

Him- I had morphine today

Me- yeah, I know...you just told me

Him- Yup. It’s not like you see in the movies

Me- yeah, you said that

Him- yeah, I had morphine...(giggle)

Me- (muttering to self) of all the fucking rooms....in all the fucking hospitals

Lather....rinse...repeat.

He actually ended up being a pretty cool guy who apparently is some sort of big deal as an artist but I think that he was a bit disappointed when I had no clue who the fuck he was.

Him- I'm an artisit

Me- (writhing in pain) yup...um hmm...great

Him- my name is (blank)

Me- yeah

Him- ever hear of me?

Me- um...no....listen, I'm kind of hurting here...

Him- (interrupting)You’ve never heard of me?

Me- nope

Him- I’ve been in all of the papers and on TV tons of times

Me-great.... sounds cool...I really can't talk right now

Him- I’ve had shows all over New England

Me- sorry, I haven’t heard of you....listen....

Him- do you ever go to the Kingston Library?

Me- (pause)… I told you that I live in Portsmouth

Him- Yeah, I know

Me- (silence)

Him- I had morphine today

Me- (slapping forehead)

Sometime Thursday...

2005-05-25T23:29:00.000-04:00

..there will be a new post up.

Part one on the fun that was the hospital.

- Hoss

Red Sox and Morphine

2005-05-23T13:57:00.001-04:00

[Colin asked me to put this up for him. Seems there is no internet connection at the hospital. I offered to do it in exchange for a bag of morphine. - Wheel Gun Bob]

Well, here I am on day number 6 at Portsmouth Hospital. I’ll fill you in as to why I’m here and how previous 6 days have gone after this running diary of Sunday’s Red Sox-Atlanta Braves game. Without further adieu….

2pm- Here I am ready for the game joined by some saline solution, a intravenous “feedbag” and 1ml of morphine every 8 mins….let the good times roll!

2:05- Matt Clement who is sporting a nifty 4-0 record and a set of balls on his chin starts out by striking out Rafael Furcal and Marcus Giles (yeah, he NEVER took steroids!) …Clement looks good….well, he doesn’t, his pitching does…then again, those balls are quite handsome

2:15- Father time John Smoltz gets things going for the ex Beantowners….personally, I think that he should have stayed in the bullpen but apparently it was hindering his golf game and god forbid another millionaire white guy misses a tee time

2:30- big surprise! We had first and 3rd with one out and Trot grounds into the inning ending double play….haven’t we stranded like 168 base runners in the last 2 games or is it all the drugs making me hallucinate?

2:31- time out to pee in a jug

2:32- 20 oz that time and I didn’t piss on myself…not bad

2:34- our first look at Andruw Jones….man, this dude used to be skinny, now he looks like a younger version of a constipated Raul Mondesi

2:35- Manny made a jogging catch of an Andruw Jones ball and the announcers make it sound like he’s Willie Mays in the World Series…. I guess that must make up for the robust .229 average

2:36- damn, Clement looks sharp…I think that was a 6-pitch inning

2:39- Big V is now up. He’s 5th in the AL with a .333 average… which just got better with a infield hit…not too shabby for a catcher

2:40- time for some more drugs

2:42- you know what? this hospital thing ain’t so bad

2:43- 1st and 3rd with one out after Bill Mueller’s weekly hit….let’s see how we can fuck this one up

2:44- yup, Bellhorn strikes out….now if Damon can just get out, my evil plan will be complete

2:47- Damon just walked, now the bases are loaded with Renteria up….yeah, I feel confident, don’t you?

2:48- Renteria struck out with quite possibly the most half-hearted swing that I have ever seen….it looked like he was petting a cat and didn’t want to hurt it….throw in that stellar defense (he’s leading all AL shortstops in errors) and we have a keeper with him….only 3 years, 5 months and $35 million to go…can I get a witness?

2:49- I’m going to shoot the tv the next time that I see that leprechaun-Foxwoods ad….you’ll read about it in the paper “Local man shoots TV at hospital, laughs hysterically”

2:54- Clement is cruising along now…9 up, 9 down…..I think that inning was about 10 pitches…maybe there is something to having a set of nuts on your chin, eh Bob?

2:59- Hey! Manny got a hit…..that’s about $500,000 a hit so far this year, not bad work if you can get it

3:03- Big V with another hit…..my nigga….1st and 3rd now

3:06- another shocker, Youk strikes out…what’s that, 189 runners left on base in the last two games?

3:06 and 30 seconds- I can’t take the pain of watching the Red Sox, time to hit that magic button

3:07- what happened to the tv? I can’t seem to find it

3:08- Here are the pitches by inning for Clement thus far…12-6-12…not too shabby, it’s downright Maddux-esque

3:10- Well, that’s it…the game is over. They got a hit. Fuckin’ Furcal…of course, he steals 2nd before I even finished typing that last sentence….jesus, now he’s on 3rd with one out. That was either really fast or the brain is awfully slow right now. Maybe I’m in the Matrix.

3:13- of course, we’ve had 632 base runners so far and can’t score(sounds like my love life), Atlanta gets one and scores within 2 minutes….they may have to up my dose of morphine before this game is over

3:16- Clement just beaned some goofy looking fuck, now it’s 1st and 2nd w/one out and Andruw Jones up, can you say 3-run homer?

3:17- nope, just a base hit….bases loaded and so am I…..good times

3:19- shallow fly ball to the ridiculously girly-armed Damon, 2-0 Atlanta…Cod-Need-Drugs….Fire Bad

3:22- another very nice play by Trot Nixon running to his left and making the catch at the wall…after the play, he was trying to give the ball to a little boy and Trot had to keep moving it around because two little girls were trying to take it away from him…..typical women, they’ll make someone miserable someday………boy, I really went out on a limb with that prediction, huh?

3:24- Mueller with another hit, he has his quota for June now

3:26- Oh my God!! Bellhorn got a hit, its now 1st and 2nd w/nobody out…let’s see what happens next, I predict a pop-up and a double play

3:27- nope, Damon got the double play out of the way, fuck me…..

:30 seconds later (seriously)- Renteria fouls out to 1st on the first pitch…you can’t make this shit up

3:28- Nurse? More drugs! STAT!

3:42- bottom of the 5th, 1st and 2nd with Big V up….c’mon V!! I’ll make you forget your wife’s name if you get a hit here

3:44- damn! Force out at 2nd. Well, it’s your loss Varitek!! Now it’s 1st and 3rd with 2 outs. Lets see if we can blow this one as well. Come on Youk, you can screw it up!

3:47- HO-LEE-SHIT!! A HIT!! AND A RUN!! YOOOOOOOK!! I never doubted you for a minute!

3:49- Good god! Mueller just got another hit!! I think I just saw a pig fly by my window. It’s all gravy for him until September now. The score is now tied up 2-2.

4:04- We’re now leading off the bottom of the 6th and Damon gets yet another hit. That boy has been on fire this year. Too bad he’s going to have to cut his hair and shave when he signs with the Yankees this winter.

4:05- On the 1st pitch Renteria advances him perfectly to 2nd while expertly leaving first base open. Boy, what a play. See what $40 million will buy you?

4:07- Yeah!! Papi drives in Damon with a double to left. You gotta love the big man.

4:08- first pitch…Manny belts it into the bullpen, 5-2 Boston!! Let’s celebrate, shall we? Nurse?

4:15- Julio Franco leads off the 7th by grounding out. I think his wheelchair got a flat on the way to first.

4:18- (Bface) Clement just retired his 11th batter in a row (Bface) by getting his 7th strikeout (Bface) of the game while giving up only 3 hits (Bface).

4:35- Its end of the 8th Bface. 18 in a row retired by Clement (Bface). I smell a complete game, don’t you (Bface)?

4:37- pee break

4:39- no spillage again, 2-2 baby!

4:43- Manny just had his third hit of the game to right. It certainly looks like he’s coming out of it. I sense a patented Manny-stretch of something like 30-64 with 8hr’s and 25 RBI’s coming up in the next few weeks.

4:44- Trot just got a hit to right. He's been hitting the shit out of the ball this year, as well. If it weren't for Damon, Big V, Papi, and Trot...we'd be screwed. Anyways, it's 1st and 2nd with two outs and my man-crush coming up. Let’s celebrate! Hit that magic button, baby!

4:48- Well, no one is perfect. Big V struck out. I’ll still give you a rubdown big fella.

4:52- Clement comes out for the 9th and gives off a leadoff single. That’s it. It’s all over now. We lost. Nurse? Drugs?

4:53- There’s a lazy fly to Creeping Jesus in center….two more outs to go (Bface)

4:57- Youk with a great diving play for out number two (Bface)!! YOUK!!

4:59- Groundout to Bellhorn!! COMPLETE GAME, BABY!! 4 hits, 7 strikeouts and NO WALKS!! Clement is now 5-0. How ‘bout them apples, Bface?!?

I think I’m going to run out and get me a fine set of hairy balls for my chin.

-Cod

what a drunk

2005-05-08T20:45:00.000-04:00

One night my sisters ex swung by the house to take me out "drinking". Little did I know what would happen next...

Earlier in the evening I had started out at my house by pounding down 8 beers in an hour (which was normal for me at the time) while hanging out with my neighbor. Then Scott (the ex) and his buddy showed up to take me out boozin'.

After some hemming and hawing about whether I really wanted to go out or not, we decided to go grab some chinese food with my neighbor and the wife.

You all know that while having chinese food you just HAVE to drink some scorpion bowls while you're there. After I had my NH state mandated limit of 2 scorpion bowls plus a zombie to boot, Scott mentioned that we should go out drinking.

Hell, after my 8 beers and a gallon of booze, I was ready to go!

We ended up in downtown Portsmouth and decided to start out at this place called The Portsmouth Gaslight. We just had to go there because it had a shuffleboard table downstairs and Scott was the ultimate frat boy. When we walked in we noticed that the place was packed! I said that we should move on, but Scott was convinced that we could procure a table.

After wandering around for a while, we ended up downstairs where it was even more crowded than before. Once again, I said that we should hit another joint, but Scott was determined.

He scanned the room for about 30 seconds and then fixated on a group of older ladies at a primo table. He said that we could take it from them. I said no way, but off he went anyways.

After watching Scott talk to some old bag for a few seconds, they all waved us over. Come to find out, they were celebrating one of the saggy chicks getting married to some (obviously blind) dude.

Not only did they give us their table, they bought us several rounds of drinks and gave us their dinners that they had already ordered!

More Tomorrow........

Wow

2005-04-15T16:33:00.000-04:00

Apparently a half-whale/half-dolphin was born back in December in Hawaii.

I think I woke up next to one of those once.

Ms. America (where have my balls gone?)

2005-04-12T17:30:00.000-04:00

The Cod Gal and I did a His and Hers running diary for the Ms. America pageant last night after the Red Sox game just for fun. She was watching it and I didn't feel like going upstairs to watch something else, so I figured that I may get a blog entry out of it while looking at hot chicks in revealing outfits to boot. I mean hell, I'm still a man, afterall. At least that is what the coroner's report will say.

Anyways, we pick it up about 20 mins in....

Initial impressions...

Mississippi

CodGod- looks like an ugly Barbie, kind of like a giant q-tip....fake boobs galore

CodGal- terrible fake boobs (jealous? The CodGod says) she was supposed to eat the canteloupes for breakfast instead of stuffing them in her chest

California

CodGod- ok looking, way too much makeup....looks like a pre-insane asylum Paula Abdul...horrible dress

CodGal- pretty face (would look good face down, ass up CodGod says) did Ms. North Carolina puke on her dress backstage? somebody hasn't been doing her crunches (CodGod says..fuckbelly, anyone?)

Florida

CodGod- not bad, longshot for the finals, the swimsuit is ok....don't get me wrong, I wouldn't kick her out of bed for eating crackers

CodGal- No opinion at this time during evening gown....(CodGod says that CodGal was busy gazing at his own amazing man-ass) during the swimsuit CodGal says, it's nice to see real boobs and nice legs (CodGod would like to see them as well...wrapped around his head...ok, this is a good spot for Momma-Cod to stop reading)

Pennsylvania

CodGod- looks like she lost a fight with a psychotic hair crimper, maybe she got her (censored) caught in a light socket? while in her swimsuit, she reminded me of the seaworms that I used to catch flounder while I was a wee-cod

CodGal- How did my mop get on TV? (CodGod says that CodGal wouldn't know a mop or how it works unless it smacked her upside the head) too skinny...should I give her one of my Pop-Tarts? (CodGod says CodGal, eat more fruit....CodGod then gets comfortable on couch)

North Carolina

CodGod- nice, very nice....looks a bit like Anna Benson, the girl who threatened to sleep with every NY Met if her husband Kris Benson whored on him....sounds like my kinda girl...how can I get a 10 day contract with the Mets?

CodGal- ugliest black dress ever....ok, nothing special

Oklahoma

CodGod- looks like the love-child of Denise Richards and Pam Anderson....wait, I might be onto some kind of Uber-chick....I'll get back to you guys

CodGal- whole package, looks great....can I be her when I grow up? (CodGod is DEFINITELY rooting for that!!)

New York

CodGod- looks just like the interstate....plain ugly with lots of trash

CodGal- did she get lost on her way to a toga party? her gut reveals many toga-parties at the local frat houses

Maryland

CodGod- pretty damn hot, she actually looks like a normal woman, not all makeup and silicone....and I quote what I wrote "Yum!REALLY nice boobs. She had better win."

CodGal- did she get lost on the way to the stage and fall in a vat of tye-dye? who would possibly let her out looking like that? (CodGod says "who cares? I'll throw her clothes away in the morning") look out Halle Berry, there is another hot chick on the
block....and she probably isn't as psycho as you

Illinois

CodGod- Yum!! no hips though....you gotta have something to grab onto

CodGal- ok, nice stomach (CodGod says "All the better to...you know what? I should stop here....this is a family blog")

Kentucky

CodGod- way too skinny, the ribs showing on the chest is too heroin-sheik...trying too hard to look like Pam Anderson

CodGal- too skinny but pretty, should chase down her plastic surgeon with the Better Business Bureau to get her money back for a horrible boob job

Well, that's it for the initial observations of the contestants that are involved.

----------------------

Some random observations....

The whole room/venue that the contest is in must be kept around 45 degrees, for obvious reasons.Trump has to be behind that and I applaud him for it.

That mouth breather (Michael Phelps) next to Molly Sims should close his slack-jawed mouth. He may set even more Olympic records if he did that. Then again, he's a teeny bopper. I would probably be drooling on national TV as well if I were surrounded with such women.

Sugar Ray Leonard says that the competition is stiff. Judging by the look on his face, that ain't all...is it Sugar Ray?

They just gave the award for "Miss Congeniality"....isn't that like getting the "You're just a friend" award? (i.e. The Fat Girl)

---------------------

My top 5 are....North Carolina...Maryland....Illinois....Oklahoma....and California.

Obviously, they don't agree with me....the facist bastards!!

Their choices are California, Florida, N. Carolina, Kentucky and Illinois.

It is criminal that Maryland didn't make it. Afterall, she ate all of those crabcakes. Shouldn't that be worth something?

-------------------

Oooh, the question section. My favorite part....

California-

CodGod-dumb as hell!! (big surprise there)

CodGal- speaks well (CodGal is now shut off)...is that it? what a dumbass

North Carolina

CodGod- sounded rehearsed...show some personality, woman!

CodGal- sounds smart but didn't show it

Florida

CodGod- very sharp with a quick wit (you don't often see that with women because they are all dumb....you can send your complaints to thecodgod@comcast.net and I won't answer because I don't care what you have to say) she seems totally cool, someone you could hang with

CodGal- carries herself well (CodGod says "she carries EVERYTHING well") she's a very quick thinker

Kentucky

CodGod- total poser...she owns a cow but doesn't know how to milk it? that says it all right there...yeah, like she hasn't "milked' anything before

CodGal- why is she here? seriously...why?

Illinois

CodGod- real slow, real dumb....I hope that she is a pothead just so she can justify her stupidity...they asked her "What is your perfect man"...her reply "I don't know"....what a dumbass!! or maybe she's a lesbian....hmmm, that opens up a whole other can of worms....she might just be my new favorite!

CodGal- seems very flaky, a terrible public speaker...dos she have the same speech writer as George Bush? (insert rimshot here)

CodGal says- Why isn't Maryland here!?!?

------------------------------

Here are the "unrehearsed" answers to the questions that were submitted from other women in the contest...

California

CodGod- totally botched the answer while not answering the question at all, if that makes any sense...what a moron (yeah, I know, me too)

CodGal- (the question was what would you do if you knew what your future was going to be) I like the way that she thinks. The CodGal said that there would be more suicides if people like the CodGod realized that they are born losers and stopped wasting all of my, er....I mean "our" time and let me, um, I mean "us" move on with our lives.

North Carolina

CodGod- she compared herself to Oprah.....WRONG ANSWER!! You are the weakest link...GOODBYE!!

CodGal- Ok, that just killed for the CodGod. She thinks that she is like Oprah. Enough said.

Florida

CodGod- this chick has it all...she's hot, very smart, doesn't take any shit from anyone, she grew up with a family of guys and has her own construction company already, ....I'm in love! CodGal...we're through!!

CodGal- This is the future Emmy-Cod. This girl seems like she is going to grab the world by the balls and run with them. Just like I think that...no, I KNOW that Emmy-Cod will. Hell, after a few short years on this earth Emmy-Cod will kick most of your asses. (CodGod says, not "most of your asses"...ALL of your asses...don't fuck with her, just ask Bface)

Kentucky

CodGod- when asked what sex that she spent more time with in college and why, she replied "Um...I think that I lived with all girls...I forget why we girls lived together with no guys....Tee-Hee"

it's called a SORORITY , YOU DUMB BITCH!!

It was on her BIO for Chrissakes!!

Jesus, I hate dumb chicks.

You know what? That's not fair to women....I hate ALL dumb people!!

CodGal- Why is she still here? Seriously. Someone explain this to me, please.

Illinois

CodGod- missed her, on my "throne" at the time

CodGal- maybe if she is quiet and never speaks, some rich man might want to marry her (CodGod says "Ms. Illinois, take my advice, keep your mouth full and everything will work out)

(CodGal says- sorry everyone, he's the one typing)

-----------------------

Some final thoughts before the final judging...

Ms. Illinois is better off being quiet and looking pretty. She has a ZERO chance as a public speaker in the future. Then again, she may be President someday.

Ms. California's dress looks like some baby shit on a towel and she wore it. How could she possibly thinks that it would help?

Where are my testicles and what have I done with them?

Miss NC wore a black dress. I know that black is a slimming color, but hell. Aren't they slim enough already? With that black dress on she could turn sideways, stick her tongue out and look like a zipper.

Miss Florida looks like Susan Lucci 20 years ago. And the fact that I know what Susan Lucci looks like makes me a viable candidate for execution....immediately. I'll supply the ammo.

Miss Kentucky could bite an apple through a chicken wire fence. If she wins, I will refuse the celebratory blowjob. I don't want her scraping my belly hair off. It can prove to be quite painful.

Miss Illinois looks SO much smarter not talking. Then again, all women do. What is that saying? "Better for people to think you the fool, than to open your mouth and prove it"? That applys to ALL women.

If Ms. Florida doesn't win I am dressing up in the CodGal's lingerie and entering the pageant next year ...and no one wants to see that.

Last year's Miss USA is talking....why? No one wants to hear her speak. Just sit there and look pretty, ok darlin'?

--------------------

The finally standings in reverse are....

at #4....Miss Florida?!?!?!?!

How she didn't win, much less get in the top 2 reeks of communism.

fuck this, I'm done!

I'm off to fill out my entry form for next year.

The CodGal's Final Thoughts

shame, shame, shame...

Florida comes in 4th?!?

I guess that they wanted a puppet and not someone with a mind of their own. Someone who knows how the real world works. (I guess that Trump likes 'em pretty and dumb)

-

My Own Private Vietnam

2005-04-07T14:50:00.000-04:00

When I was a wee-one living in Hampton, Nh we always had bird feeders in the back yard. It was kind of cool getting to see all the various species of birds up close and in their element.

Even better was watching my retarded cat Bo (short for Bo Diddley) being continually dive-bombed by pissed off mourning doves after he would unsuccessfully try to catch one. It was funny as hell. They would line up and attack him one after the other. We also had a bird feeder that was attached to the outside of our kitchen window with suction cups. When a bird would land on it, Bo would sit on the counter trying to stalk the bird all nice and quiet with his tail twitching ever so slightly and then BAM!!! He would make his move by leaping at the bird and smashing headfirst into the glass. The best part about it always was that he would walk away acting all cool like he meant to do it. Good times.

Anyways, a couple of years ago I decided that it might be cool to get some bird feeders and put them on our back porch so the kids (and myself) could watch them in the winter.

I rigged up a couple of feeders, bought some seed and sat back waiting for the birds to arrive.

It didn't take long. Within a couple of days we had several different species of birds coming in on a regular basis. Everything was going fine until one morning after stumbling downstairs, I saw the ultimate scourge of all bird feeders....the dreaded grey squirrel.

At first, I figured that I would just bang on the glass doors and they would run away. I don't mind feeding them as long as they stay on the ground. No problem, right? Well, that lasted all of two hours before they realized that they weren't going to be hurt, so they would just stare at me for a second and then go back about their business of destroying my bird feeders.

I tried opening the door to spook them with my ghastly mug. That worked for a couple of days until they (once again) realized that nothing of harm was going to happen to them.

I tried yelling and screaming for a few more days until I realized that my neighbors must really think that I had gone insane. I can just hear them now...

"Honey, that crazy boy next door is outside in his underwear screaming at the trees again."

Something had to be done and it had to be done immediately.

Oh, I know! My son has a BB gun. I'll do like my grandfather used to do and shoot them in the ass a few times. That'll scare them away for sure! He said that worked for him. (He was probably trying to spare my feelings since I was so young and killed them every chance that he got)

Well, it wasn't until I had shot the same squirrel in the ass four times during one morning that I realized that something more drastic needed to be done.

Now, in my defense, I'm not a bad guy. I had tried to be nice to the squirrels. I even went so far as to put out seed just for them, but they would walk right over it (while sneering at it in contempt), jump on one of my feeders and start emptying it. They were openly mocking me now. I knew that they knew that I knew that they knew that I knew it. It was definitely a war of intellect and they were (obviously) winning handily.

I thought of when I was a child and my stepfather had put chicken wire on one of the feeders in our yard while attaching jumper cables to it. When a squirrel jumped on it, he hooked jumper cables up to a car battery. That was always good for a quick laugh, but it never hurt or deterred the little bastards. They just kept on coming right back.

One afternoon, while walking through the local sporting goods store with Daddy Cod and all the while lamenting about my troubles with the 7 tree-rats that had so rudely violated my bird feeders that morning, it struck me! Well, it didn't actually strike me, I tripped over the display in the aisle, but still...

A pellet gun! Yeah, that's it! I'll get a good quality spring piston, single cock pellet gun! Something with a little more oomph then Jr Cod's little pump-up one. A Beeman R9 to be precise. All the squirrel stopping power that you will ever need. I was done fucking around now.

-----------------------

Now, let me preface this next part for all you hippie-tree hugging-animal loving bastards out there. I have a hunting license and have been through all of the safety courses. Not only that, none of the squirrels went to waste. If you don't want to read about dead tree-rats, leave now and don't come back.

----------------------

Now I was ready.

I broke the gun out as soon as I got home and went about sighting it in. I was immediately impressed with the weapon. I had never shot and/or seen a pellet gun with such accuracy! I was putting pellets through the same hole at 25 yards while free standing. That's damn good for a pellet gun.... and for me as well.

Damn, I couldn't wait until the next morning....

Well, morning broke and I was ready for the little pricks. Unfortunately, they were ready for me as well. It was almost like they knew what was coming. Why would they immediately scatter now at my sight when before I could bellow like a elephant with his nuts caught in a thorn bush and they would just stare at me? Did they have a spy in the Cod God's household? I'll have to question the kids later.

After a few long distance shots that just hit ass-fur, I knew that I needed a new strategy if I were to rectify the situation.

---------------

One freezing cold morning after the kids had gone off to school and I had run off a minimum of 12 rats-with-fluffy-tails, I had an epiphany! I'd leave one of the windows open upstairs and whenever I saw one through the glass doors, I would silently creep upstairs into on of the bedrooms and off him.

Let's just say that it worked like a charm. They were going down quicker than Starr Jones' husband in a men's room. The old freezer at the Cod mansion was filling up quite quickly. I think that my best day was 7 "eliminated".

Of course, there were a few hiccups along the way. Like the time that I dropped one, went outside to pick it up and my cute neighbor was out back walking her dog. She saw me, gave me a big smile and a enthusiastic "Hi!".... until I turned around and she saw the dead squirrel in my hand. They moved out shortly after that.

That first winter I bagged 36 of the little tree rats, but, and there is always a but, there was one that I could just never seem to get.

Call me Captain Ahab because this one was my white whale.

I ended up nick-naming him "diamond" due to the patch of brown hair on his back that formed a perfect diamond. It really was a cool looking patch, but I think that it gave him superpowers or something. Several times I had clear shots at him and for some reason or another, I would always miss. I remember one time in particular when I had him dead to rites (for lack of a better term) at about 30 feet and I missed him completely! It wasn't even close and I couldn't believe it! Not only that, but he didn't immediately run away so I took another shot....another miss. What the hell was going on? I had never once missed from that range, much less twice. It had to have been some sort of mystical beast. Maybe the ghost of squirrels past coming back to haunt me? What made it even more galling for me was that he was from the original batch of squirrels that had taunted me for months before I had bought the pellet gun (now affectionately known as "The Equalizer") and he was the only one still eating me out of house and home.

Well, one morning he was a little too cocky for his own good. He was yet again sitting there on the railing of my porch while eating my bird seed laughing at me with his eyes. He saw me pick up the gun and aim at him but it's like he knew I was going to miss again. But this time I didn't. I have to tell you, I almost felt like throwing a party to celebrate or marching around with his head on a stick but my therapist electro-shocked that thought right out of my head at "Anti-Squirrel Therapy".

After that, I kept the squirrel population under control but I never had the determination of that first year. In fact, this year I only had to bag 2, and one was by accident. Maybe I'm getting soft, I don't know.

What I have now is a multi-step process for the little shits...

Step 1- bang on the glass and scare them away.... they get 3 of those

Step 2- have Emmy-Cod open the door and yell at them....they get 3 of those as well

Step 3- the pellet gun comes out, but only to shoot them in the ass....it never draws any blood and I have found that it is a good deterrent.... they also get three of those...sometimes more

Step 4- as The Loudmouths song about the Tunnel Rats says...."Aim for the head!"...but lately I don't feel like going out there, picking them up and having to deal with them, so I usually just keep referring back to Step 3

I know, I'm a pussy....but, oh well. If they were seagulls, there would be NO MERCY!!!

Quickly...On a related note, when some of my neighbors found out what I was doing they were outraged, just plain outraged! How could you hurt such a cute little creature? That was until they were kept up at night by the squirrels chewing through their walls. Then they were offering to buy me more pellets for the gun and offering me bottles of booze for every one that I killed.

Just thought that I'd mention it.

Bob, Booze and a Birthday Party

2005-03-30T14:54:00.000-05:00

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 favorite....fire 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

WGB- I mean, I REALLY LOVE THIS FUCKING DOOR!!

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 go...now!

WGB- Ok, but I LOVE THIS (he turns around).......fuck......ing.........door?

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, sir...target 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.

Who'da thought?

2005-03-26T15:44:00.000-05:00

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

Imagine that.

Close Calls/Various Injuries

2005-03-25T17:15:00.000-05:00

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.

After 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 pussy...you 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 startling.....to 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.

2005-03-24T19:38:00.001-05:00

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

2005-03-24T19:38:00.000-05:00

So, there I was. Me and my buddy.

Everyone Go Away

2005-03-23T08:54:00.000-05:00

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.

Idiots.

----------------------

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.

---------------------

OH..........MY.........GOD!!!

AMERICAN IDOL HAS TO HAVE A REVOTE!!!

THE HORROR.........THE HORROR!!

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?

Damn

2005-03-22T09:17:00.000-05:00

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.

My Dream Car

2005-03-19T09:11:00.000-05:00

Check this out.

I'll be accepting donations of any amount.

The Scourge

2005-03-17T13:56:00.000-05:00

And you guys think I'm crazy.

They are secretly trying to destroy our society.

2005-03-15T21:29:00.000-05:00

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

Go away..

2005-03-15T10:14:00.000-05:00

....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.