running and Beer Drinking: A Critical Comparison

First off let me say I am writing this while slurping a Beer. Try writing while running. Heh. Laptops are light for sure...but cumbersome nonetheless. Think road safety and all that.

running leads to bad ankles and knees. running encourages sciatica. Common causes are bad shoes, no warmup or overdoing it when you're sixty and haven't run for decades.

Beer Drinking (especially drinking professionally) leads to a bad liver. As with running, overdoing is a common problem. Good shoes don't help though.

running for long periods (12K or longer) sometimes results in an endorphin high.
Beer Drinking nearly always results in a high in an hour.

runners frequently race to be first. Prizes. Recognition. Money. It's the competition thing.

Beer Drinkers never race and usually strive for last...as in last one standing. There's recognition with this but if you want prizes and money take up running.

running requires extra gadgets like jock straps, shorts, $300 breathable running jackets and headbands.
Beer Drinking, either as a hobby or professionally, requires none of these expensive, unnecessary accoutrements.

Beer Drinking requires no track.

I've reached my second Beer. It's best I stop now and concentrate on the race.

Never cohabitate with a female body builder

on a mission. You can't trust 'em. This particular lady athlete moved, strictly platonically and with separate bedrooms, into my San Antonio suite in '81. As the lights dimmed that first night there comes a soft, pleading tapping at my door. I'm lonely (etc.). She was, to put it mildly, well sculpted...so naturally we enjoyed a few moments of mutually adult entertainment. THEN she informs me of her boyfriend in Hawaii. I rolled my eyes. With a confession like that what else could I do?

She then informs me her back aches. For six months we visit every acupuncturist and chiropractor in town. To this day I wonder if, in some small way, I started those lower back problems which may have limited her chances as a world class weight lifter at a time in her young life when she very much needed recognition.

A gizmo I'd like to see:

A bookshelf stereo system which includes a 5 CD player, satellite/am/fm radio AND wireless technology which streams music from a pc and on board usb connections for iPod-like capabilities. I haven't seen anything with all these capabilities in one box...but maybe I missed it somewhere?

How NOT to start your day...

The devil made me do it...but at 7:30 a.m. the devil ordered me to walk three blocks south to the nearest restaurant which serves "Sh*t On A Shingle". I says, there's gambling there...and alcohol there...and I ain't got much money. Nevermind, the devil says. You'll be fine. Eat and get out. No problem.

Yea...right. The S.O.S. tasted rather tasty (sausage in a spicy white sauce with biscuits)...high cholesterol...to die for and the coffee rather bland. I'm looking at the cup thinking...this coffee sucks...one simple, single beer won't hurt. The guy next to me (who can see I'm struggling with a moral dilemma) says, "Pretend you've just finished the midnight to seven shift." Heh. Music to my ears.

So I'm sipping my first brew and plotting a quick escape (things to do... doncha know) when suddenly the bar mistress announces, "Last call for happy hour!" Everyone already has two or three shot glasses down as chips for their next reduced fare drinks and I'm thinking, Why the hell can't I have a shot glass down for happy hour too? Bingo. Just like that. I'm in the happy hour club.

Looking at my new buddy, I say, "Appears I'm here for awhile." He smiles and says , "Well, I gotta go." He exchanges his shot glasses for coasters redeemable another day, then leaves.

I stumble home. It's now after 11 a.m. and I'm listening to Frank Zappa totally buzzed...again...see how that works? Stinkin' thinkin'.

So I'm sitting on the front lawn

when two cats move smartly into the courtyard. Related cats?

The adolescent cat is following the much larger cat and keeping up quite nicely because the large cat has an ever so slight limp. I wonder how he got that?

What with birds everywhere...birds nesting...birds making passionate avian love...birds poppin' eggs and singing about it...I figured the cats were on a late morning bird hunt...like Thanksgiving in April.

Not so. The lead cat heads for a prominent bush, stops, gives me the once over as if to say, "Christ. A human. They're everywhere." then sprays this bush a magnificent male dominating super spray and turns abruptly about.

The adolescent cat arches its back, does a double flip about face and hightails it to the exit super cat in hot pursuit.

I sat a moment sipping my beer and thought, "Wow. This is better than reality tv."

The question of the day today

over at MSNBC is: Should troops ever be charged with murder during combat?

When I voted yes I was thinking of the My Lai Massacre where unarmed civilians in an entire village were systematically slaughtered. Evidently I'm out of synch with the mainstream on this: 71% voted NO and only 29% voted yes.

On further reflection I see the average Joe in combat, bullets flying, making snap life or death decisions, seeing carnage and wreaking carnage probably should not be second guessed. Yet it's simplistic to think a soldier might not go ballistic, lose all moral compass and step beyond acts of war to genocide or murder.

It's also a bit hypocritical to charge this young lieutenant with murder while letting the power crazed politicians who, despite protest the world over, invaded Iraq without just cause...to let these back-seat remf warriors completely slide.

Just one combat vet's opinion.

Hard Boiled

Couldn't help but notice

Duncan, Raven ,Greg and the other ex-military ex-pats (ex-milipats???) were partying this weekend at an undisclosed location somewhere in Germany WITHOUT the girls. Nothing like a bachelor party to cleanse the mind and refresh the soul.

Reminds me of my own introduction to 151 Rum on Okinawa, the Fourth of July 1973. Jack and I left our wives home, bought a fifth and mozied to the seawall to consume said fire water and converse on miltary and strategic matters. For a spell the outing proceeded swimmingly. Firecrackers popped up and down the beach. A few fishing boats sailed by near the horizon...or maybe they were destroyers.

Jack announced he spotted a sea snake floating nearby...most of our rum was gone by then and our vision was waxing rapidly glaucomatic. The sea snake may have been a rope.

Jack then proclaimed we should drop our firecrackers over the wall to watch them flash bang before reaching the water...which is what we thought we did.

What we forgot, though, was to drop them before they exploded...resulting in bruises very hard to explain later to two dumbfounded wives. On the plus side, all our fingers were in tact and we felt no pain because we weren't feeling anything by then.

None of this was my fault though.

Spiderman stuck on a local clothes line.

I'm attending a

Cootie meeting this morning which includes substantial beer drinking (What? You didn't know I occasionally imbibe?). This sometimes results in a muddled mind incapable of blog posting later on. Or not.