Actually, I’m pretty sure that ain’t poison ivy, because a) I don’t make a habit of peeing in weeds, and b) poison ivy doesn’t usually cost me $50, a half-hour of strained small talk, and two gin and tonics at some dingy hotel bar off of Federal Ave.
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KEEP ON MOVING! NOTHING TO SEE HERE BUT ME AND SOME TUMBLEWEEDS!
Check out Riehl World View for some high traffic political analysis. GO! BEFORE YOU MISS OUT ON THE KNOWLEDGE!
Hey! How ‘bout those Rockies?
You too? I mean, as regards the traffic, not the rash.
Tell ya what, I’ll throw you a link. Then nobody over there can come over to visit nobody over here.
Wow, my being out of town prevented me from hanging out at Protein Wisdom repeatedly hitting refresh, and Jeff notices it in his traffic analysis? One of us needs a life.
Hold on to your hat, now. Wait for it. Here comes the traffic spike. . .
Well, The Jane Hamsher of the Left (TJotL) (h/t John Cole) claims libel in the prior thread.
It’s unclear whether TJHotL is claiming Jeff libeled her based on his claim of the amount of Stoli she consumed or which organ that she coughed up.
.
The traffic trend is blogosphere-wide.
I’ve been in read-only mode for weeks.
They’re all in the Yucatan drinking and getting tan. Post loud when they return. That’ll show ‘em.
I’m jealous. I want a rash.
Yo, Jeff: never play with scared money.
It’s a pretty weekend. Relax for pete’s sake.
Oh, yes. Never play with a scared monkey. That’s bad news.
They’re especially dangerous when cornered. They’ll take your cell phone and run up hideous roaming charges.
Jeff caught a rash from a monkey?
Yese, and it cost him $50 and two g&ts
High class monkeys drink Kir Royales. You get what you pay for.
I ordered a Kir Royale in a Gasthaus in Rhineland-Pfalz in 1997. Bartender looked at me funny, so I rather quickly explained to him in German that I know it is a dame’s drink, but I had never had one before, so pour it already. He replied in very good English that it was just an unusal request, most people just yelled for beer or the local version of Jagermeister.
No monkeys involved, but was I ever abashed.
Oh, and Jeff is worried about low traffic… 4.2 million + visits. And I almost burst with pride when I hit 85,000. Humph!
You think that’s bad, I’ve been in write-only mode. And not even much of that.
Unless, of course, you count sappy pictures of cats.
TW: But yes, it does seem like things have slowed way down, all over the place.
poison ivy doesn’t usually cost me $50, a half-hour of strained small talk, and two gin and tonics at some dingy hotel bar off of Federal Ave.
Does the wife know about this?
$50? You have much to learn of the subtle art of bargaining, my friend.
Major John- just as I have always suspected, you are one high-class monkey.
I was disappointed by my first Kir Royale, but I didn’t have to work that hard to get it. Being a girl and all.
same here, russ, same here.
Perhaps, maggie, but you do it so well. Carlos is a handsoome rogue.
Thanks! don’t i know it, and i think he knows it too. sometimes i feel bad i don’t get so many pictures of maggie, she’s just not as photogenic.
I stayed in that hotel once. If you go around the back, you can skip the G&Ts and the conversation.
Yes it is a wonder and I like the way you pointed out that it was JHotL herself that raised this curiosity, cuz um we all thought it was satire…until she “pure and simpled”, I mean pointed “something” out
I ordered a Kir Royale in a Gasthaus in Rhineland-Pfalz in 1997. Bartender looked at me funny, so I rather quickly explained to him in German that I know it is a dame’s drink,
So John,
You know that you are the resident badass here, right? Right.
So why in the name of all that’s pure and good would you cause me to picture you as Clarence the Angel ordering a mulled wine at Martini’s in Bedford Falls?
I’m going to go scrub my Brain with Lava Soap. When I return I expect to read your comment on how you gutted a fat homeless man and hid inside his carcass while you were being chased by 50 ChiComs. And…..and….while curled up there in the transient’s thorax, you were uploading the schematic of the Kremlin to your PDA in preparation for a neck-snapping-filled infiltration.
Thanks in advance for your attention in this matter.
Sincerely,
Alppuccino
Did I say “homeless” man? Sorry actus. I meant to write “boneless”.
No blood, no foul.
Every time a monkey orders an expensive drink,a badass gets his wings!
Al,
So I’ll have to relate the story about when I was halfway up a cliff outside Ashrafkhel, in full combat load, and the interpreter, standing next to a local farmer, yells up at me – “he says the weather may have uncovered some more mines”. So as I realize how absurd I look, I yell back, “This is very immportant, did he say ‘more’ or ‘some’ mines”?
Naturally, the answer was “more”. I was informed that I would be OK, “as long as I stayed on the trail”. The alleged trail was not as wide as my boot. I made it up…slowly. Then I caught up to the infantry I was helping out (by moving up behind their route on that cliff). Then we went into some lovely hole to root out weapons caches.
Does that help?
A rash, huh? That’s what you get for picking up stray spleens without using a paper towel or something.
Whatever the differential diagnosis, Jeff, just don’t put campho-phenique on it.
TW: I regretted this decision.
Geez, Major John.
I don’t think I could do it, traipsing through minefields. I CERTAINLY don’t think I could do it without spilling my drink.
Major John- I don’t thank you enough. You are an admirable man.
Major John is the bee’s freaking knees.
Spamword: BAD
Actually I thought the whole thing was rather laughable… in a “piss yourself in fear later” type of way. I remember not sleeping real well that night. But it is a funny story, uh, now.
All right. Cliffs and mines are a fair trade for neck-snapping and hollowed-out carcasses.
You’ve put things right, Major John. No more visions of Clarence. It’s Bull Meacham again. But remember what’s at stake when you relay your more “continental” stories. Always temper them with a stabbing or a sweep of the kneecap followed by a headbutt to the septum.
Your the man dude.
…..or you are the man, or you’re the man, or you da’ man. Just not your the man.
Another compliment brought to its knees by bad spelling
I would think that file closer would be the Bad Ass of this bunch anyway. I could second him.
I’ll try to include more “time I outscowled an entire crowd of Serbs in 1997 outside of Sarajevo” type talk in my European tales.
Oh yeah. File Closer does come off as an ass-kicker. I heard he actually killed a dude with punctuation. Colon, I think.
messy
Al – the ability to kill everyone in the room with your colon is highly underrated.
Nothing gives me more pleasure than leaving behind an SBD in a crowded express elevator.
Major John  Will all those stories start with: “Now this is no shit, there I was…”
well, that’s only right and proper isn’t it?
Nothing gives me more pleasure than leaving behind an SBD in a crowded express elevator.
You are a stone cold assassin brutha.
Difference between a war story and a fairy tale?
Fairy Tale begins – “Once upon a time…”
War Story begins – “This is no bullshit…”
Only problems with my stories is I almost always end up looking like I was in some sort of comedy skit. I wish I had some that made me looked studly/bad-asstic.
Major John  It’s been my experience that the guys who tell the stories where they’re always the king stud are usually bullshitting.
John Kerry, for example, would have been the guy who found the extra mines and blazed the trail through them.
The best and usually true and most educational war stories are the ones where something happened to or around the teller.