Top Ten Tuesdays: How are we justifying our bonuses to taxpayers?

Special bonus edition!

11) Achieved bonus goal of obtaining tax money to pay for bonuses.

10) Giving needy citizens rides to the unemployment office in our new Porsche (pending available seating).

9) Obtaining bids from multiple vendors before using bonus money to purchase hookers and blow.

8) Managed annual salary so poorly, need a bonus to bail us out.

7) Need additional funds to pay for our guillotine insurance.

6) While it's right for the government to give businesses public funds, it will make Baby Jesus cry if it says how businesses should spend those funds.

5) Promising to invest that bonus money in companies that will help the American economy and not those like A.I.G.

4) The same way we justified them to our shareholders...through equations that no one wants to admit they don't understand.

3) Sitting back, lighting a cigar with a $100 bill, and letting the Times do our justifyin' for free.

2) Hey, nobody took away George W. Bush's salary.

1) "Justify"...sorry, we're not familiar with that word. We're MBAs, not English majors. Now who wants a little caviar with their fillet mignon?

Friday Random 11

It's one more random than 10!

This is the second Friday the 13th we've had in a row? Isn't that bad luck? Or is it good luck, like multiplying two negative numbers? Maybe 2012, the year everyone says is the big apocalyptic year, has 12 Friday the 13ths, and the last one will unlock the mystical 13th Mayan month that brings about The End. Actually, that sounds like a good idea for a highly successful, semi-literate novel that generates a lot of controversy and gets made into a somewhat successful, slightly more literate movie staring Tom Hanks and a bad haircut.

Okay, onto some big freakin' news: While we were on vacation, The Lovely Becky sold her next novel! It's a love story about a female writer who is married a fantastic husband who is as good in bed as he is funny, and every chapter reveals just how awesome he is, especially in bed.

Wait, that's my novel.

Her novel is a dramatization of the life of this lil' ol' lady, written from her point of view. I would describe it as a portrait in human cruelty, and it's the kind of book that I think could do well enough to fulfill my lifelong dream of being a kept man. It's being published by a little publisher that some of you may have heard of.

In all seriousness, I am ecstatic for TLB. I have always reveled in my wife's success, and her happiness makes me happier than my own ever could. Her lifelong dream has been to be a writer, and now she gets to continue that dream.

Plus, I'm totally going to ride her coattails to my own book deal.


1) "Cath...," Death Cab for Cutie. The thing I like about Death Cab is that there's always something bubbling under their shiny, jangly musical surface. There's a whole mass of dark, depressing lyrics beneath the driving drums and chugging guitars. The live video here has a hilarious introduction.

2) "Rest My Chemistry," Interpol. Our Love to Admire is the most disappointing album I've heard in a while. I loved their first two discs and still play them very regularly, so I had my inner hype machine going full-bore, which made this dull, uninspired group of songs thud that much harder.

3) "Daddy's Gonna Pay for Your Crashed Car," U2. An annoying song from an otherwise underrated album. I really like Zooropa. The toughest thing to do in music is follow up an album like Achtung Baby: a work that both redefines a band's sound and becomes a massive hit. Do you play it safe and make Guten Tag Toddler? Put out a live/studio hybrid album called Der Rattel und Humm? Or get a little weird and maybe even let The Edge do vocals? They took a chance by going the weird route and made the most unusual album of their career.

4) "Friday, I'm in Love (Live)," The Cure. What Friday would Robert Smith love more than Friday the 13th?

5) "Don't Go," Yaz. I am man enough to dance with my hands over my head to this song.

Speaking of embarrassing sights, I got this text message from my friend Smokey, who is on her first trip to Vegas: "At XS at the Wynn, lots o people dacin on tables!" So it's not just me.

6) "Wish," Nine Inch Nails. My favorite song by Trent Reznor, and not just because it uses the phrase "fist fuck." The guitars cut through the speakers like Ginsu knives, and I dig how the snare drum beat manages to sound industrial without sounding like your usual industrial jackhammering. An awesome song for the gym or driving when angry.

7) "Sentimental Fool," Roxy Music. Kind of grungy for them, with the guitar walking around Bryan Ferry's pristine bachelor pad in its dirty bare feet, until Bryan comes back home and cleans up the mess. No vid, sadly.

8) "Quality of Armor," Guided by Voices. I think I read that Robert Pollard turned down an offer to license this for a car commercial. It's perfect for one: the chant of Oh yeah, I'm going to drive my car with the standard awesome GbV guitar line seems like the perfect accompaniment to images of a Chevy Stimulus SX driving near a cliff. I would have definitely taken the money because those videogames don't buy themselves.

9) "Lie," Dream Theater. I grabbed a bunch of music from my brother Snake Anthony, who, being an avid musician, tends to listen to some stuff that only avid musicians like. Dream Theater is supposed to be like Rush—hard prog for the progger who wants more double-bass drums and less Keith Emerson keyboard-farting. But I find Dream Theater to be soulless. Rush, for all their pun-inducing faults, have an organic feel, three guys who come together to make songs. This DT song feels like composition-by-committee, where every member has their contractually-obligated time to wank off. That's fine when you're Joe Satriani and everyone else is a musical fluffer there to support your wanking, but it's messy and kind of ugly when everyone's blowing their wads at once.

10) "Surprise, Honeycomb," The Wrens. Compare that to this Wrens song. There's all kinds of shit in the spin cycle here, little bits of guitar and noises swirling around and making this more than your standard hummable pop fare. Yet it still has personality. It's not in its room playing scales for 12 hours so it can dazzle other guys who like to play scales really fast.

11) "Razorblade Salvation," Jedi Mind Tricks. More stuff from Snake Anthony, who mentioned he had also gone on a hip-hop bender for a while. This is good, like Eminem if Eminem wasn't so FACKING annoying, but it also illustrates why I am not a true fan of rap: My least favorite aspect of rap songs like tends to be the rapping. I dig the samples here, the female vocals, the overall groove, and could completely live without the guy popping into to speak-sing about not killing himself. Still, a cool song and a great band name, although they should have an album called These Aren't the Rhymes You're Looking For.

Hidden bonus track
"My Generation (Live)," The Who. From Live at Leeds, the greatest live album of all time. The great thing about music, and especially live albums, is there's a chance someone will record you at your peak, that a moment where you are at your best will be preserved for all time. Here are one the best bands of all time, rocking fifteen minute jam of one of their best songs, at a time when they were playing better than they ever did. I wish that could have happened to me, someone recording me when I was 17 and courting TLB, during the brief 10-12 month period where I learned how to be cocky, but in a charming way, before my natural neuroses returned and dragged me back to my usual state. It would be cool to pop that recording in every so often.

Have an awesome weekend. We're supposed to be over 40 degrees for a few days, and I'm so happy, I'm considering going out and buying a gun so I can fire it in the air in celebration.

United States Has to Let Two States Go

Alaska and Hawaii given notice under ‘last admitted, first omitted’ policy

WASHINGTON - Faced with a severe contraction in revenue and a bleak economic forecast, the United States was forced to downsize by two states, giving notice to Alaska and Hawaii that they would no longer be part of the union.

“It is with great sadness and sorrow that I had to let these two magnificent states go,” President Obama announced at a news conference. “I am especially saddened that my home state of Hawaii will now be considered foreign soil.”

President Barack Obama called the states into his office to deliver the news personally. He thanked them for their contributions to America’s history and economy, and said he would be happy to provide glowing references. He also said he would consider readmitting both should conditions change and the United States begin expanding again.

Alaska took the news in stride. The state has long had an independent streak and made no secret of its ambitions to set out on its own. “We thank the U.S. for all it has done for us,” the state said in a prepared statement. “We will always feel a close bond with the Lower Forty-Eight, and we especially value our close relationships with the military and oil industries. But as we say, you can’t make a fur coat without clubbing a seal, and it’s time for us to make our coat.”

Alaska announced that it was now the independent Kingdom of Alaska, Ltd., and that Governor Sarah Palin would become Queen Sarah I. “Gosh, I don’t know what to say,” said the new queen. “I’ve had a few tiaras placed on my head, but never one that let me do whatever I want. This is awesome!” She immediately announced the banning of the 21st Century.

Hawaii was not so amicable. Sources at the White House say that they heard both crying and shouting from the state inside the Oval Office. At a later press conference, The Aloha State, its flowered shirt undone and carrying a drink with a tiny umbrella in it, delivered some harsh words to its former country.

“This is bull----!” Hawaii said. “We get put out to sea while f----- Delaware gets to stay. You know what’s the difference between Delaware and a guy with a thumb up his a--? The guy with the thumb actually does something. But you sign a Constitution a million years ago and you’re a state for life.

“Have fun vacationing in Dover, a--holes!”

Sources close to the state said it had already been approached by Japan, China, and Australia.

Hawaii’s outburst hinted at the difficulty the last two admitted states had fitting in with the existing Union culture.

“Don’t get us wrong, we have a lot of respect for Alaska and Hawaii,” said one Midwestern state that wished to remain anonymous. “Unfortunately, they never really bought into our continental values. Alaska wanted to do things its own way, while Hawaii never really matured from its territory stage. There’s more to statehood than pristine beaches and Macadamia nuts. You need to bring more to the table, like hog byproducts or ethanol.”

Another Northeastern state said that the two states never should have been admitted in the first place. “The U.S. is a closed shop. Our criteria is ‘from sea to shining sea.’ We work better when our states have common borders. You start rewriting Manifest Destiny to include any discarded Russian province or island full of fornicating savages, and pretty soon you find yourself having to pay attention to Guam. And no one wants that.”

Both states received two months of interstate highway severance, but no health benefits.

Top Ten Tuesdays: What are we doing over spring break?

Special extra long vacation edition!

12) Cramming hard for our forthcoming hepatitis test.

11) Waking up in the sweet embrace of one of our frat brothers.

10) Leaping to our feet in horror when we see the Web cam.

9) Saving money on hotels by constructing our accommodations out of empty Red Bull cans.

8) Using our pre-law training to argue our Constitutional right to not wear pants.

7) Hosting Ye Olde Spring Breake on World of Warcraft.

6) Passing comp by letting our TA do a Jell-O shot off of us.

5) Wishing we’d paid more attention in Spanish so we could negotiate our release from the cartel.

4) Smoking our Pell Grant.

3) Taking a shortcut to the beach through the swamp and yadda yadda yadda hanging on a meathook.

2) Playing that game where you do a shot after you do a shot...wait, what?

1) Chronicling our eventual expulsion on Facebook.

"Ice to see you!"

The Lovely Becky, Libby, and I drove to the airport on Friday, ready to begin our Southern vacation. All three of us have had cabin fever, even our eight-month-daughter who doesn't know what "cabin" or "fever" mean.

As I mentioned on Friday, the UP had other plans. A blizzard rolled in, as if to remind us that Old Man Winter still runs this town. Still, the blizzard died down enough that it appeared we'd get out of town that evening.

We arrived at the local "airport," an old Air Force base where one converted hanger serves as the terminal. We piled into the tiny turboprop that would carry us to civilization. The plane had been sitting outside all day, and the pilot informed us it would take a little longer to get going because the crew had to do some extra procedures to make sure the plane was ready to go.

I could tell how bored my daughter is with being housebound during the winter, because she looked excited to be someplace new, even if that new place was the kind of flying craft I once heard Lewis Black describe as "one of those Buddy Holly-fuck planes." She looked around and watched as the crew outside hosed the plane with de-icer.

The right engine roared to life, but the left one couldn't get started. The pilot said that the engine was just cold, and that turning the plane away from the gate and into the wind would help get more air into the intake. The right engine revved up and the plane rocked a little back and forth.

"Uh, folks," said the pilot in the voice all pilots use when you should be moving but aren't. "It appears that the wheels of the airplane are frozen to the ground."

I've flown a fair amount, in good weather and bad, and have dealt with my share of meteorlogical, mechanical, and illogical disruptions. I have never, however, ever been delayed because my plane is stuck to the tarmac like a third-grader's tongue to a frozen flag pole. The pilot assured us, however, that it would be temporary, and that the ground crew were going to spray de-icer on the wheels to free us. "We should be underway shortly," he said.

A few minutes later, there was a puddle of orange de-icer under the plane, pooling like a melting slushee. The right engine revved up, the planed rocked back, and, after a few minutes, the pilot came on. "Uh, folks...." Apparently, we needed more than the power of one airplane engine to break from the icy grip of winter. A towing tractor would be summoned to give us a little shove. The pilot apologized, but said, "We should be underway shortly."

Outside, we heard the tow working. The plane rocked a little but kept do it's imitation of a tree planed in frozen ground. "Uh, folks...." The ice was not confined to just under us, but all over the tarmac, and the tow couldn't get enough traction to move us.

The ground crew tried other methods. They brought up big heaters to melt the snow. They tried the de-icer again. At one point, I saw a guy walking under the plane with a shovel. I would have brought my snowblower if it wouldn't have cost me $15 to check it. In the meantime, another plane arrived, unloaded, reloaded, and took off again. For a moment, I really hated those people. I didn't want anything bad to happen to them, but I hoped they had a really crappy time when they arrived at their final destinations.

The ground crew, after deciding that sacrificing a moose would likely not free the plane, decided to call the Bigger Tow, a device that must have been travelling the UP, dazzling everyone with its feats of pulling, because it took 45 minutes to arrive.

Finally, plane moved. It turned around and lurched toward the runway. The propeller on the left engine slowly started turning, faster and faster, and soon I was very greatful for the deafening, filling-loosening roar of 1920s-era aviation engineering. Three hours after we boarded our Buddy Holly-fuck plane, we lined up and took off for Detroit. I was so relieved to be moving that I found myself yearning to land in Detroit and welcomed the thought of spending the night there, having long missed our connection, because that meant we were no longer stuck to the runway.

(How did our daughter do? She smiled, she cooed, she ate, and five minutes after takeoff, she slept. She cried for maybe two minutes. She was far more mature than I was, as I kept peppering TLB with "my act" to help pass the time.)

We landed in Charlotte the next day and picked up our rental car to begin the first part of our trip: visiting my parents in Tennessee. It was a rainy, 40-ish degree day, but at least it was green and I didn't need my winter coat. On the road, my father called me. "You know, it was beautiful here a few days ago, and then you come here and bring this shit with you," he said.

"Hey, it's not my fault," I said.

The next day, big fat flakes fell from the sky, and the nearby mountains were hit with a winter storm. Perhaps my father was right and I was a weather monkey's paw.

We left the day after the storms, heading to Hilton Head to spend some warm vacation time with TLB's parents. As soon as we hit the Smokey Mountains, we saw snow from there until well into South Carolina.

"It looks pretty," TLB commented as we drove near Ashville.

"It does," I agreed, "because it's like a little, sweet, powdered-sugar snow. As opposed to the bag of flour we live in."

The snow stuck with us until we got halfway to Columbia. Even then, the temperature remained below 45 until we got near Hilton Head, when it crept up a couple of degrees. "If it it hits 50, I'm taking off my pants," I said to TLB. The temperature reached 48, then 49, teasing me, but never getting higher.

"Did it hit 50?" TLB asked.

"No, 49," I said. "I had a button undone and my zipper halfway down, but it's not to be."

The forecast calls for it to get warmer, and even possibly something known as "hot," a concept I vaguely recall but don't really remember. But I'm not going to believe it until my pants are off and the tingling I feel on my thighs is the warmth of spring and not the burning of frostbite.

At least I'm not stuck to the runway, though.

Nothing says vacation like blizzard warnings

The Lovely Becky and I were scheduled to begin our vacation today, a luxurious jaunt down south where the temperatures are rumored to be above freezing. Of course, that means it was time for a UP snowstorm to shit all over our plans. On top of that, I have been working like a dog all week so that I can take a week off like a gentleman.

So the Random 11 is snowed in as well, unable to rock or groove much. I'm taking my computer, though, because I will have time to blog next week, and that in itself feels like a vacation.

So open thread for parental advice, your favorite strange meat stories, and/or punning so excessive, it violates the Geneva Convention.

Top Ten Tuesdays: What are we unveiling in our address to Congress?

Special extra wordy edition!

13) Opening set by Rahm Emmanuel from his new one-man show, "Suck My Donkey Dick, You GOP Leg Humpers."

12) New remix of "Hail to the Mothaf****n' Chief (feat. Jay-Z, TI, and Rihanna)."

11) Plan to place all unemployed Americans in suspended animation chambers until new jobs are created for them.

10) Method to solicit new ideas for economic growth through a new TV show, So You Think You Can Rescue the Economy from Apocalyptic Collapse?

9) A revolutionary new program that will increase our health, reduce our dependence on foreign oil, and greatly reduce the number of traffic fatalities: walking.

8) Immediate lowering of the unemployment rate by officially recognizing "slacker" as an occupation.

7) Plan to firm up investor confidence and get the stock market pumping again by merging the financial sector with the porn industry.

6) Proposal to cut Post Office expenditures by requiring all non-essential mail to be Twittered.

5) Tearful, factually-challenged apology about unethical banking practices, delivered by Alex Rodriguez.

4) Initiative to reduce teen sexual activity by requiring children aged 12-17 to watch their parents having sex (mandatory minimum of three sessions of intercourse).

3) Bold new declaration to end our current economic depression by invading Germany and Japan.

2) A wardrobe malfunction that gives a little stimulus to the ladies (and certain male supporters).

1) A call that the nation should commit itself, before the next decade is out, of going to Mars, bitches! M.A.R.S.!

Friday Random 11

It's one more random than 10!

As I mentioned last week, Libby and I had some solo time together because The Lovely Becky had to go to conference. TLB was worried a little bit about how Libby would handle being away from her mommy and, more specifically, mommy's boobs. Libby is eating solids now and also drinks formula in addition to breast milk, and there were frozen bags of the real McCoy in the fridge, so the issue was going to be more psychological than physical.

The nights went by, and Libby and I did just fine. Sure, there were a few times when she attempted to lift my shirt, which I prevented lest it end in unspeakable horror. She also missed TLB at bath time—we do a little game every night where one of us chases Libby up the stairs as the other person carries her up for her bath. All in all, though, we just chilled out, played, ate, and slept.

I, however, really missed TLB. I love my time with Libby and we have a lot of fun together, but I found myself missing the three of us having fun. This will sound really cheesy, and it is cheesy, but we waited so long to have this opportunity that we cherish our time together as a family. By the time day three rolled around, I was ready for TLB to come home, not because I couldn't handle Libby by myself, but because I wanted to handle Libby with her mom around.

TLB asked every day how our baby girl was doing. While my positive reports were certainly a relief, I could also hear the disappointment in her voice, disappointment that Libby didn't seem to be missing her mommy more. Finally, when we went to the "airport" to pick TLB up, Libby spent the first minute gazing at her surroundings before finally delivering a much-needed smile to TLB.

"What's the matter?" I asked TLB.

"Nothing. I just wished she missed me a little more," she said.

"Yeah, but do you know how difficult it would have been if she had really bad separation anxiety?"

"I know, and I'm glad she didn't," TLB said. "But a little separation anxiety would be okay."

Funny how we were so focused on how Libby would adjust when it was us who had the harder time of it.

Okay, time for some music.

1) "Beat Connection," LCD Soundsystem. The problem with listening to dance music when you're not dancing is that you're missing the point of the music. There's lots to like here—bongos, blurbing synths, and cowbell—but it just reminds me that I'm sitting here in my sweats instead of jumping on a table and letting loose a vodka-fueled fusillade of happy feet. I have to give the kids in the video here some props for bringing the dance party home.

2) "You Curse at Girls," Fountains of Wayne. The liberal in me says that girls are entitled to be cursed at the way men are. The chivalrous guy in me says absolutely not. Sometimes those things are difficult to reconcile.

3) "Southern California Wants to be Western New York," Dar Williams. My experience in So Cal leads me to believe that Southern Californians don't even know where western New York is, let alone wanting to be like it. It's like the reverse image of the famous New Yorker cover showing the view of the country from Manhattan.

4) "Dancefloors," My Morning Jacket. I feel like I should be in an 18-wheeler listening to this, heading out west and getting into adventures. And I should have a monkey. And maybe a trailer full of females who are there of their own free will and just happen to feel more comfortable in skimpy outfits and tight t-shirts.

5) "You Can Have It All," Kaiser Chiefs. It turns out we can't. In fact, getting half of all seems like a pretty good deal these days. This is one of those choruses I usually sing when no one is looking.

Speaking of having it all and wearing sweats: The thing that almost always comes up first when I talk to someone about working at home is "do you work in your sweats/pajamas/hot pants/leather gear?" (For the record, I do not own either of the last two items to the best of anyone's knowledge.) Most of the time, the answer is no. I follow the same routine I used to follow when I worked in an office: up at the same time, shower, shave (usually), a bowl of Colon Blow cereal for breakfast, and too much caffeine. The only difference is that I walk upstairs to my office, I get to play music as loud as I want, I can go downstairs to see my lovely wife and daughter, and I know who to blame if something in the fridge is half eaten.

Today, however, I am in my sweats, because I can. And that's why working at home is awesome.

6) "I Know It's Over," The Smiths. Morrissey mentioned earlier this week that he plans to retire in a few years. That seems like it should be a reality show. What exactly would someone like him do in retirement? He could be out in the garden, watering his plants with tears of unrequited love. Trying to buy a box of Just for Men covertly but constantly getting recognized, not by kids, but by their parents who were big Smiths fans. Having Robert Smith over for tea and trying to out-morose each other over their approaching demises. That sounds less far fetched than giving a show to Poison's Brett Michaels where he tries to convince us that he's still sexy and not bald.

7) "Tonight, Tonight," Smashing Pumpkins. I know it's completely uncool to like the Smashing Pumpkins, the way it's uncool to like U2. But Siamese Dreams and Mellon Collie and the Infinite Album Title are full of the kind of big, anthemic rock songs I would love to play in Rock Band. There are already a couple in the game, but I really want the chance to screech Despite all my rage, I'm still just a rat in a cage at a frequency that causes the cats to run into the basement.

8) "Juanita," The Flying Burrito Brothers. Sad songs about drinking to forget...is there anything they can't do?

9) "All the Wine," The National. I talk about music a lot in real life, and it's not unusual to run into people in their late 30s or older who would listen to new music if they could find anything they liked as much as what they heard growing up. I understand the sentiment, and even though I spend a lot of time and money acquiring new music, it doesn't have the same effect music did on me when I was a teenager or college student. There are too many other things that occupy that happiness and too many distractions to make music as important as it once was. But it's songs like this (and albums like Alligator) that make me happy that I still carve out a space for new music in my life.

10) "Girlfriend," Matthew Sweet. On my Can't-Be-Overplayed list and a song that gets cranked to 11 whenever possible. The interplay between the main riff and the lead guitar, the sugar-sweet backing vocals, and the way it feels like great late 60s rock delivered with the force of 90s production always get me. Sadly, couldn't find the original, but found a revved up live version he played with John Hiatt.

11) "Comes a Time," Neil Young. Neil Young at his most beautiful and a wonderful way to head into the weekend.

Enjoy yourselves.

Top Ten Tuesdays: How are we changing our retirement plans?

10) Practicing grocery bagging skills for post-retirement employment opportunities.

9) Altering goal of moving to Las Vegas to Leaving Las Vegas.

8) Moving our 401k allocations into more stable Powerball Fund.

7) Using kids' college fund to send ourselves back to college until its safe to graduate again.

6) Investigating tasty new ways to die of a heart attack before the age of 65.

5) Obtaining a fake ID so we're young enough to enlist.

4) Squatting in foreclosed McMansions.

3) Feeding on the pigeons.

2) Getting the food, shelter, and health care we'll need by sticking up the nearest police station.

1) Working ourselves to death so we won't have to be scared about retiring.

Friday Random 11: Be My DJ Today

I have been tied up with work and also with watching Libby for the last couple of days, as The Lovely Becky departed for an expenses-paid round of boozing and dining a writing conference. This has left little time to post some of my fabulous new pieces or a Random 11 today.

However, acting on a tip from a certain undead blogger, I recently signed up for eMusic. It's a monthly subscription music service: I pay a flat fee for so many downloads. They have a free trial where you can get your first 25 songs free, so I thought I'd give them a shot.

After downloading one album (of nine songs), I became paralyzed. I only have 16 free songs left! I have to make sure I get my non-money's worth!

This always happens with me when I have credit or gift cards, I over-analyze what I should get with them. I often get gift cards for places like Best Buy, and I horde them like Elaine Benes storing Today contraceptive sponges, waiting for the purchase that will be gift-card worthy. I am convinced that, at least in my case, it is the anticipation of consumerism that is more enjoyable to me than the actual purchase. I should just keep all those gift cards forever and live in a perpetual state of possible purchases.

Anyway, since I need help with my free songs, let me know what you're listening to these days. New, old, famous, obscure...no matter. EMusic is a little limited, but there seems to be a lot of stuff on there. And besides, I'll need new ideas when I get gift cards again.

Oh, and as far as this whole taking-care-of-the-baby-by-myself thing goes, it's amazing how docile they get with a little bourbon and KFC.* Just like daddy.

*Something Snag has known for years.