…nope, not at all, just putting some up from my archives while I organize ‘em.
Grew this last year.
What do you think it looks like?
…nope, not at all, just putting some up from my archives while I organize ‘em.
Grew this last year.
What do you think it looks like?
Tonight, the Juju Woman and I will be charcoal grilling some ribs with our special Juju Jerk sauce. Made me think of “Sire”…at least that’s the name he goes by. Does he look fucked up, or what? Absolutely, hands down, cooks the best ribs I’ve ever had.
I snapped this at some beach reggae dive on Anguilla, British West Indies.
Spring is in the air, and the immature Red-tails (last years batch) are learning how to hunt. Problem is…they chose Stretch to practice on. I ain’t gonna let it happen.
There were three to five of ‘em checking him out is his own space territory. Dive bombing him and shit like like that. Testing his reflexes…I’m glad I was around to protect his young ass. He was in danger of termination from above…I’m glad I heard ‘em.
I could put up the Hi-Res versions, but I ain’t doing it. The Juju Woman was driving the camera…and I’m on patrol with my doggie, and hear screaming from above. After my encounter with that rabid possum a week ago…I’m still a little wigged out…so I brought out the catdaddy…nothing will ever take Stretch. Nothing. It is, after-all, his Stretchengeti…his place…his home. I will protect him at whatever the cost.
Anyway, today is a beautiful day…Stretch is cool, and there was no loud noise. Although, I have no problem mounting an anti-bird gun out back.
I’m telling you…when birds of prey start hunting your dog…you need to be prepared.
Beautiful birds they are, but I’d do one in a second to save Stretch.
Cool Runnings!!
*** UPDATE ***
In response to an email.
The Juju Woman wouldn’t have been snapping pictures if she thought, for one moment, I couldn’t protect our Stretch Dog. She knew I had him covered.
Red-Tailed Hawks are magnificent birds, but dangerous. I swear to the Maker…they hunt in “packs”. They’re like the Borg…they think together. They plan.
Good thing about living across the street from a golf course…this is where I get the sand for my Zen Rock Garden…this is not mine…mine is a little smaller.
…and go visit my friend Dax Montana
Just 5 seconds is all you need.
…with fresh Andouille
I have thousands of pictures in my archives…been going thru ‘em and categorizing ‘em. Saw this one, and decided what’s for dinner tomorrow tonight. Gotta soak those beans overnight.
Snapped this somewhere in the French Quarter. It was a great meal.
Last night about 9:15 pm I let my dog Stretch out to do his business. I flipped on the back porch light, as I always do, and he saw a full grown 15 pound possum about three feet from the door. Tally-ho…I’m telling you…fight on. It was dark…It was moving, I was moving…Stretch was all over it. I called for the Juju Woman to bring me my staff, and a gun. It was probably rabid, because it didn’t run. It was showing its teeth, hissing and snarling, and going after my dog. I got between ‘um and she (Juju Woman) was able to grab Stretch…I was whacking the fucking Possum with my staff, and it was pissed. One problem, the Juju Woman brought me a .177 1100 fps pellet gun that wasn’t loaded. Not her fault, I’d just cleaned my guns, and they weren’t back in the common nook and crannies as usual. As soon as I knew she and Stretch were safe; I ran inside a got the closest loaded gun…my S&W 38 snub nose loaded with +P 129 grain hollow point Hydra-Shoks.
It’s not cool to shoot in my neighborhood…I live across the street from the second hole of the catdaddy country club.
Anyway, I ran back outside and the fucking possum lunged at me…I popped it from about ten feet…it was down…I could see blood coming from its mouth. The Juju Woman said “shoot it again”. Since a .38 in considerably louder than a pellet gun; I put 3 in it with my .177. It looked dead to me. Did I say…this fucker was huge…biggest possum I’ve ever seen…at first, I thought is was a badger.
We’re back inside waiting for the cops to show up…a gunshot in my neighborhood is unusual…the one I fired was the first one I’ve ever heard…in my neighborhood that is. Thirty minutes later…no cops, so I thought I’d dispose of the body. I go back outside, this time with my snubby…just in case. That fucker WAS NOT dead…it came after me. I was able to get a stable stance and aim and fire again…this time, I blew its fucking head off. It Was Dead this time…was not playing Possum…no doubt about it.
I cannot believe it took two hits from a .38 and three from a .177 to kill it. It must have been doing some meth, or something. I’m not a bad shot.
It was too big to fit in my shovel, so I donned a pair of rubber gloves, and carried it, by the tail, across the street and deposited it on the second hole fairway.
As I type, I can see some vultures eating Sunday Brunch. You’re welcome.
Cool Runnings!!
March 15, 2010
Yabu Caricature
…as seen through the eyes of my friend John Cox
If you’ve 75 bucks…contact him…it’s a steal. I have some nice stuff hanging in my crib, but these two, and the one below, generate the most conversation.